The Red and the Black
by littlemisslilyevans
Summary: Lily is horrified to meet the Head Boy to her Head Girl. There's no doubt her final year at Hogwarts will be completely ruined. What will it take to break her pride and convince her that perhaps she's the one who's been mistaken these last seven years?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note (31 October 2010): **Hey, you guys. Thanks so much for reading this and reviewing.

Any comments/suggestions? (Don't be shy, please, I don't mind negative feedback at all, as long as it's constructive. I reread it today, and I found SO many typos. You guys are too kind. Really, you can speak up, please. :))

Thank you so much again. I love you all.

*Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING. Sadly.*

Now that I've bored you to death, without further ado:

* * *

**Prologue**

They say that when you can see death, your life flashes by you like a movie.

It's not true.

When death is so close that you can see it, you only see the things that matter the most to you. Everything else is gone, swept away, insignificant.

I could see the green light leaving his wand, the wand that took James away from me just moments ago.

And the memories start rolling, flickering through my mind.

_Mum singing with me in her arms. Petunia grabbing my hand, running together to the playground, picking flowers with her. Dad playing cards with us, always letting us win by just a bit. Begging Mum with Tuney to let her sleep in my room. Staying up late to share the latest news about friends and school and boys with her. Drinking iced tea on the porch with everyone, laughing at Dad's silly jokes. Mum and Dad on Platform 9 ¾, waving and smiling, so happy for me. Mum and Dad meeting James for the first time, his manners and charm winning their approval. Dad's pride as he walked me down the aisle. Mum in the first row, trying and failing to inconspicuously wipe her tears. Mum and Dad lathering Harry in kisses. Indescribable pain washing over me as I comforted Dad, finding myself unable to say anything, for what can you say to someone who has lost their reason for living? Terrible emptiness filling me as I stood over Dad's casket, being lowered to join Mum's._

Mum, Dad, I miss you. I've missed you terribly. If only you could have lived to see Harry's first birthday. But I'll be seeing you soon. Petunia, my largest regret is that we couldn't be friends like we were before. I've missed you ever since that day, Tuney. Maybe someday you'll forgive me.

And the tears start to flow.

The light glows brighter, coming closer.

_Meeting up with Severus on the train, excited that I would be going to the same school as him. Walking to the Gryffindor table, and finding that I was sitting next to the obnoxious boys on the train. Smiling and making friends with Remus, the quiet boy who always hung out with those obnoxious two, ignoring them when they asked him why I was friends with him and not them. Feeling proud when Professor Flitwick announced my talent for charms to the class. Blushing when Professor Slughorn loudly proclaimed how perfect my potion was. Telling Sev about my sister and giving him advice about his family. Meeting Alice and Marlene, exchanging names and nervous smiles. Staying up until midnight, talking about how complicated our teenage lives were. Reporting to them first when I was notified that I was Head Girl, squealing together over my shiny badge. Laughing with Marlene at Alice and Frank kissing when they thought no one was watching. Rolling my eyes when Marlene started doing the same thing with Sirius. Seeing Marlene dressed in gold, smiling her beautiful dimpled smile and trying to pass off her tears as allergies to the flowers, as my maid of honor. Alice, as one of my bridesmaids, smiling radiantly at me, happy that I would soon join her and Frank in the quirky world of married couples. Giggling with them over the babies growing inside Alice and me. Clinging onto Marlene's cold hand, seeing Sirius sprawled, howling, across her lifeless body, being dragged away from her for the last time, sobbing so uncontrollably that nothing could be felt anymore._

Severus, how I wish you didn't do those things, how I wish you weren't like them, how I wish we were still friends. Marlene, I only miss you every day, every minute. Alice, please don't cry when I'm gone. You're too beautiful to be stained by tears so often.

But tears are streaming down my own cheeks.

The light advances, halfway to its destination now.

_Talking to the Healer, finding out that the reason for my sickness was the little baby growing inside of me. Reaching down for the first time and putting my hands on my belly, trying to feel the baby. Feeling the baby kick at night when I couldn't sleep. Lying next to Harry for the first time in that hospital bed. Holding him for James and Sirius to see. Tucking his little limbs up in the evenings, kissing him goodnight. Listening as Harry cooed, "Mamaaa" and "Daaa". Watching Harry walk unsteadily toward me, hoping the carpet was soft enough, in case he fell. Cutting Harry's very first birthday cake, holding his soft hands so he wouldn't grab the candles. Laughing at Harry zooming around on that ridiculous little broomstick that Sirius gave him. Helping him open presents at Christmas, grinning at his silly baby laughter as he saw all the presents inside. Rocking him to sleep as he pulled on my long red locks. Kissing him at the same time as Daddy, just minutes ago. Holding him tight, feeling his chubby little body warm against mine, shielding him with myself._

Harry. Harry, Mum and Dad love you. You're going to be a great wizard someday, and we will be so proud. We love you, darling. Don't ever forget that.

The tears are coursing down, faster than a waterfall. I couldn't have stopped them if I had tried.

The light is so close, so close.

And James.

_James, turning up my nose at him on the train. Ignoring him while he persistently tried to talk to me. Calling him an arrogant prat. Promising to date the giant squid before dating him, feeling a little guilty at his crestfallen face. Turning down each of his 1,000,001 ways to ask Lily Evans out. Yelling at him in public._

_Finding the way he ran his fingers through his hair obnoxiously and almost endearingly arrogant. Laughing silently at the way he deepened his voice whenever I came within 10 feet of him. Rolling my eyes when everyone told me we were made for each other; after all, I only mattered to him because I was the only one who had ever said no, right? Discovering I was wrong in seventh year. Finding that he had become Head Boy and screaming in disbelief._

_Realizing that somehow, for some reason, he had changed. Blushing when caught staring at him in class. Holding secret conversations with him about things I hadn't told anyone in forever during Patrol Duty. Giggling at his obvious attempts to make me laugh and at his pride when he succeeded, albeit for the wrong reasons. Trying to convince myself I still disliked him, but finding it increasingly hard to do so. Falling into those hazel eyes, sprinkled with specks of dark blue and gold._

_Saying yes for the first time and laughing at his astonished face, reaching up and lifting his chin so that his mouth would close. Pulling him along to breakfast, sitting next to him, smiling at everyone's shocked expressions. Letting him put his arm around me on that snowy Hogsmeade weekend, and somehow feeling warmer than I had ever felt before. Kissing him in the Heads common room, sensing sparks and chills race each other down my spine. Dancing with him, spinning and twirling and feeling as if I could be here with him, in his arms, forever._

_Putting my head on his chest, listening to him tell me that he had loved me ever since he first caught sight of me and would love me more than anything for eternity. Reaching up to kiss him and telling him that he was the last person I thought I would have ever loved, but that for some reason, I loved him more than all else. Asking him who in the name of Merlin he had thought I would marry, if not him, when he proposed, allowing him to slip the ring onto my finger. Walking down the long white aisle toward him, looking as if he was expecting to wake up any minute. Kissing for the first time as husband and wife, but feeling just as many chills and sparks as the first time._

_Feeling his voice tickling my still flat stomach, swearing that he could hear our baby laughing inside. Having his strong, comforting arms around me whenever he sensed I'd had a long day. Watching him kneel down at my feet to tie my shoes for me when my belly was too large. Smiling as he leaned down to cuddle with Harry and me in the hospital bed, holding himself up just enough so he wouldn't hurt us. Lying next to him, listening to him tell me how amazing our son was going to be, how Harry was exactly like me. Laughing when he didn't believe me when I said Harry actually was a good deal like him. Taking pictures as he chased Harry and his baby broom across the house. Watching quietly from the door as he scooped Harry up and twirled with him to make him laugh. __Smiling, feeling a gush of love for him as he entertained Harry, stifling his yawns, when Harry fussed at night._

_Kissing James on the nose just a little while ago. Being unable to accept that he was gone, taken from me._

The light reaches me, enters, right above my heart.

James, James, I love you. These last ten years with you have been the best of my life. And soon, I will see you again, and we will spend forever together.


	2. Chapter 1: Introductions I Owe

**A/N: **Hey guys. I could lie right now and claim that I'm J.K. Rowling, but I'm not. I think you guys are far too clever to be fooled by a silly lie like that. And I don't think my current predicament is going to change much anytime soon, so that goes for the rest of this, too.

Oh, and I love you guys for reading.

Alright, without further ado:

* * *

**Chapter 1: Introductions I Owe**

It's far past the middle of the night, and I lie, fully awake, on my bed. This is completely ridiculous; I can't afford to be up so late tonight. For Merlin's sake, I have a _train_ to catch early tomorrow morning, and _everyone _knows I am not a morning person.

Really, I should be asleep. But, cheesy as it sounds, an obnoxious picture of a faceless young wizard with messy black hair keeps popping up in my mind's eye.

Oops. Did I just say wizard?

Well, I guess the metaphorical cat's out of its imaginary bag now. I might as well do some self-explanation too. So here goes:

Hi. Bonjour. Hola. Hallo. Peace. Whatever language you speak. (Yes, I consider hipster a language. Don't judge.) I'm Lily. Seventeen. Female, in case "Lily" sounds like a masculine name to you, in which case I would suggest you get either your ears or your brain checked. At this point, I'm praying that you're not a creepy eighty year old man who's planning to find out my address and kill me in my sleep, so I won't reveal that, I guess; better safe than sorry, as my mother incessantly tells me. But I will tell you that I live in Britain.

You want to meet my _family_? What a horrifying suggestion! Of course you don't, if you value what's left of your sanity at all. Oh fine, fine, if you insist, if you promise not to make me pay for your hospital bill later.

Let's start with the better part of my family, so that you won't have anything to look forward to. (Me, a pessimist? Never.) My mother is a darling little woman. She's a second-grade teacher, and she's one of those mothers with all those chocolate-chip cookies and clichéd sayings. My father, on the other hand, is one of those fathers who try their hardest to be strict but fail because they just can't be. He's a doctor. So I guess my childhood has been pretty balanced; both my health and education were covered from the start.

And then there's Petunia, my sister. You see, we don't have a terribly good relationship. We used to be best friends when we were little, but things change, you know? Nothing can be done about it, no matter how hard I may or may not want it. Let's not talk about her; I want tomorrow to be a _good _day.

Back to the cat and the bag. Right.

Well, I can tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. You still want to know? Oh, alright, fine. My secret is that I'm a ninja.

Just kidding.

I'm a witch. No, I do not have a hooked nose; no, I do not have green skin; and _no, I do not melt, _okay? I do wear robes, though, if that helps. And I do magic with a wand. I even go to a school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where witches and wizards like me learn to control their magic. It's rather fun, really. My parents are Muggles, or non-magical people. And no matter what anyone tells you, it does make a difference. Not a huge one, but a difference nonetheless.

Oh, I forgot to mention, didn't I? I got a letter by owl a couple days ago from Professor Dumbledore, our Headmaster, saying that _I_ had made Head Girl. Can you believe it? _Me neither_. I was shocked too. This means that I'm going to get my own dorm in the Heads room. I just really hope the Head Boy's decent.

But I shouldn't be worrying about that. I have enough faith in Dumbledore's sanity to trust that he won't pick someone horrendous for the position. I really should be sleeping. I'm losing valuable time.

So good night.

This year is going to be amazing. I can just feel it. I honestly can't think of a single way for this year to go wrong.

* * *

**A/N: **You know, I have Chapter Two written and ready for posting. But I'm going to be completely evil and say that a few reviews (which can consist of critique of my writing style, suggestions for future chapters—plots, characters, literary style, etc. —, revisions, and/or anything else) might speed that process up a little, yeah?

Please forgive the corrupt bribery happening here.

Did I mention I love you all? Well, I do. From the bottom of my heart.


	3. Chapter 2: Losing Faith

**A/N: **Well, this is a really really long chapter. Good luck.

Explanations for character nicknames: I refer to Marlene as Mermie throughout the fiction. It's a nonsensical name we came up with in one of my RP groups. Alice will mainly be referred to as Alice, but sometimes I will call her Liss. (Again, RP habit.) Lily will be sometimes be called Lils, just because it's cute, or so I think.

As for actors and actresses, to help you picture the characters, I see Lily as a Susan Coffey sort of girl, except with real wavy red hair, and James as a clean-shaven Gaspard Ulliel, with glasses. I picture Alice as Ashley Greene or Kate Beckinsale, you know, with a quiet demeanor but lively spirit, kind, sweet, etc. I have yet to find an actress for Marlene. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated, please. :]

Now, moving on to chapter 2.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Losing Faith**

Guess how I woke up today.

Nope, not by being shaken by my chocolate-chip baking mother (remember her?). What? By alarm? What a preposterous idea. In my seventeen years, I have never been woken up by _alarm_.

Well, actually, that second guess was somewhat close to the truth.

I was woken up by slamming my head on the side of my nightstand after trying to shut off the disgusting loud beeping _thing_ that people call alarm clocks. So _technically_ I was woken up by my alarm, but let's not be technical.

I was jolted out of my perfectly pleasant dream about chocolate and outstanding grades on my exams by that aforementioned alarm clock. But, as I have said before, I never wake up by alarm. I was only half awake, you see. And just as I thought about that lovely "O" I received at the top of my paper in my dream, I realized that I was thinking about school. Which reminded my quite brutally that the first day of school was today, and I had a train to catch in, oh, about _only an hour and a half_. I was forcing myself half out of bed to grab my wand and turn that stupid alarm off when a sudden thought that my eyes weren't open yet flickered through my mind. Alas, too late. My head made a nice, crisp cracking sound as it connected with my nightstand.

It was probably one of the most effective wake-up calls I have ever received.

First lesson I learn this year: try to open your eyes _before_ you reach for your wand.

After clutching my head and writhing in pain on my nicely carpeted floor, I remember about the train. Oh, and about how I was Head Girl and how I should be setting the example for the younger children.

Of course.

Well, I certainly hope none of them followed my example and woke up in that fashion this morning.

So I grab my clothes, take a hot shower, dress, and take a long, hard look in the mirror at the side of my head. The bruise looks pretty painful, actually. No, no, I mustn't look like _that_ for the first day of school; _what if _the Head Boy turned out to be a particularly attractive and thoughtful and intelligent specimen of male? Being a witch and all, and not a particularly thoughtful one, I whip my wand right out of that back pocket and direct it at my head.

Let's freeze right there. That was probably one of the most idiotic and dangerous decisions I have ever made in my life, and it is something you should _never ever ever ever ever _try at home, as those commercials say.

I hope I didn't strike you as an overly cautious witch, did I? I don't want to leave any wrong first impressions.

But I also hope you figured out from the fact that I'm writing this that I survived in one piece and am currently not trapped in the body of a frog. And on top of all that, my bruise somewhat disappeared, leaving only a faint yellow splotch there. Say, do you think it makes my skin look tan?

No? Okay. You have to give me credit for trying.

I think it's pretty much impossible for me to look tan, considering I have what some-would-call-red-but-I-prefer-to-call-auburn hair. Oh, and did I mention my green eyes? Yeah. You want Christmas year round? One serving, right here.

Alright. I'm sure you're not especially interested in how I ate breakfast and how I spent my solid hour getting ready for school, so I'll spare you the details and skip ahead to the part you care about—the part involving my witchy education.

I already packed my trunk last night, but I double-check my checklist for everything:

_*Robes_

_*Hair supplies_

_*Chocolate_

_*Textbooks_

_*Potions supplies_

_*Chocolate_

_*WAND (Leaving that at home when you're going to a magic school is like a criminal offense, as I unfortunately learned from first-hand experience my second year.)_

_*Head Girl badge_

_*Owl (I named her Calypso. Cute name, eh?)_

I'm forgetting something…

_*Oh, right, chocolate._

You know, I'm not _completely_ disorganized, despite how I may appear at first glance. Leave "completely disorganized" to that spoiled brat we call James Potter. Ugh, why am I even thinking about him? Maybe I should have brushed my brain clean this morning too.

* * *

Mum covers me in hugs and kisses at the door, and I even pretend to give a stiff-armed hug to Petunia. I'm rather proud of myself, really.

Dad drives me to King's Cross, and after a few awkward hugs and goodbyes, I pick up my trunk and Calypso's cage and walk straight into the wall between Platform 9 and 10.

Yes, I _did_ just say I walked into a wall. And no, I did not mess up my brain when I pointed my wand at my head this morning, thank you very much.

I end up safely on Platform 9 ¾, where a huge maroon train was waiting for me.

I push my way through the crowded platform and successfully board the train. As soon as I open the first compartment door, I am unfortunately attacked.

After peeling my attacker off me and peeling myself off the floor, I look up to my attacker, complaining, "_Marlene McKinnon!_ You call _that_ a hug?"

"Lily! Merlin, I'm so glad to see you, girl. Oh, guess what? I met the dreamiest boy this summer. Hey, tell us, did you make Head Girl? Huh? You must have!" Marlene, sitting up and brushing back her glossy dark brown hair, squeals.

"Oh, right. _That_ would be what I had to tell you. I did! This year is going to be the best." I feel a hand pull me up and pick the bits of dust out of my hair. "_Alice!_ How was your summer?"

Alice Prewett, a quiet little thing with the most gorgeous velvety brown eyes, replies, "It was amazing, Lils. I've got so many stories for you guys. And congratulations on your badge!"

Marlene pulls us both to the seats, going on about how we were going to have parties and sleepovers in the Heads Room. That girl is wild, I swear.

I announce that I have to go to the Heads Compartment in ten minutes for our first Prefect meeting.

Marlene stops ranting long enough to ask the question that was on all our minds, "Say, who do you think Head Boy is? It better be someone good who would allow our parties."

Alice answers for me, "Probably Remus Lupin. He's definitely a teacher's pet."

You see, we've known each other for so long that we all think alike now.

Marlene giggles. "What if it's James Potter? Our Lily might even fall head-over-heels in love with him and start drooling at the sight of him."

Never mind. I take that last statement back.

I snort. "Mermie, darling, first of all, you have issues. Second, dream on. As if I would ever even look at him. Third, Dumbledore would _never_ make him Head Boy."

Marlene shrugs innocently as Alice laughs. "Just saying, Lils."

I should explain.

James Potter is a fellow Gryffindor in our year, and he is the most annoying and disgusting boy I have ever met in my life. I honestly pity his parents. I pity anyone who has to come into any type of contact with that arrogant toerag.

He thinks he's so perfect, and he's not. The fact that he gets good grades and all the professors love him doesn't exactly help, either. He's also the head of this stupid little mini-clique of four boys who go around calling themselves "The Marauders", and _apparently _they're the height of popular. Revolting, isn't it? He has an obnoxious head of jet-black and messy hair that he has this stupid habit of running his hands through. I mean, he's stupid enough to think that it actually looks _attractive_. Talk about delusional. Oh, and he's a major flirt. He likes to imagine that every girl faints at the sight of him and his Quidditch-hardened muscles. Actually, they _do_, quite often, but that's not the point. The point is that _I_ do _not_. I would never fall for anyone that shallow.

To make the situation even worse, that boy has a _fascination_ with me. He whips out a Snitch whenever I'm around, deepens that voice of his, puts on a smirk, professes his supposed everlasting love for me, and asks me out in the following unappealing fashion: "_Hey, Evans, d'you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend, huh?_" This happens every day, multiple times a day. Seriously, I don't think he has a sense of shame. He probably thinks it's funny, but it's absolutely repulsive. I feel for his future wife.

In a nutshell: I _hate_ James Potter.

Marlene then makes the worst decision of her life. She whispers to Alice, "Wouldn't they be so perfect together?"

Uhm. How about no?

I snap out of my little hate-fest and snarl. "What did you say?"

Marlene looks at me with her huge blue eyes. "Lils, dear. You two are perfect together, and you're the only who even pretends to not see it. I mean, look at you and look at him. You're sarcastic, and you need a guy who would keep you from getting too serious about things. He's always cheerful. You two are both geniuses. You're beautiful. He's hot. Don't even deny it. You want a guy who treats you well. He worships the dust your feet kick up. You two are made for each other."

"And Lily, he's so _in love_ with you," adds Alice, sighing.

She's only saying that because she's _in love_ with Frank Longbottom, although he doesn't know it.

They never get a reply from me, because I stalk out of the compartment, making sure to slam the door behind me.

I cannot believe my best friends are so insensible.

Half of Marlene's argument is invalid and doesn't even deserve a response. Sarcastic? I've never been sarcastic my entire life.

As for the part about him loving me, that's complete crap. He only wants me because I'm the only thing that hasn't gone right in his spoiled little life. He'll probably treat me like trash as soon as I cave, which I never will. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

I make my way to the Heads Compartment, pinning on my badge and smoothing out my robes.

I really hope Remus is Head Boy. I need some cheering up today.

I yank open the compartment door, praying under my breath.

A black-haired boy looks up and stands up. He grins. "Hey, Evans!"

You should have seen my face. I have no doubt you heard my scream.

I can't believe I had enough faith in Dumbledore's sanity to have the audacity to think that he would pick someone decent for Head Boy.

Second lesson I learn this year: For matters of life and death, never put all your faith in Dumbledore.

This year is going to be terrible. I know it.

I can't think of a single way for this year to get worse.

* * *

**A/N: **Also, any suggestions for actresses for Marlene? I will also need ones for Sirius, Remus, and Peter in the future, in case you want to get a head start.

Any kind of feedback is always greatly appreciated. Anything I could do to make you happier? Did you like this chapter more or less than the last one? (Please be honest; I need to improve my writing a lot, really.) Plot suggestions? Tone? Anything?

And if you don't like bribery, please don't read the next sentence. Remember, reviews are my life, and if you don't give my reviews, I won't have a life, and then I can't write, no? :]

You guys are too sweet to me. I love you all**. **


	4. Chapter 3: Flies and Firsts

**A/N: **So sorry for the delay, guys. I've been trying to write ahead of time, so that I have at least one chapter written before I publish one. But I just haven't had any time! I decided to just publish this one, though. I have midterms soon, so I can write as soon as they're over.

I don't have Chapter 4 written yet, but again, I will get writing as soon as midterms are over.

Thanks for reading, dears.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Flies and Firsts**

After a rather heated debate with myself, I ultimately decide that I should open my eyes, which had been screwed tight by my little screaming episode.

I am greeted with a miraculous sight.

James Potter's face, which is slightly bent over mine in concern, is right in the middle of the light streaming in the train window, accentuating the shadows on his finely sculpted face. The sunlight dyes the tips of his messy hair a golden color, as if it were on fire. His hazel eyes are darkened, showing every fleck of deep blue and green and gold. The dimple on his right cheek seems deeper and almost… kissable. He looks like an angel.

But for some reason, I feel like this face shouldn't be beautiful to me.

That doesn't stop the words that are already tumbling out of my mouth, though. I dazedly hear myself say, "You're _beautiful_."

I sensed something above me moving and saying, in a genuinely concerned manner, "Uh, Evans? Are you alright?"

I then slowly register that the face in front of me belongs to a body, and that the body is connected to a hand that is resting on my left shoulder.

This hand is James Potter's hand.

I had just mentally called James Potter beautiful.

This is impossible. I must be dreaming.

Wait.

Oh, Merlin. Please tell me I did not just say he was beautiful out loud. Please.

_Bloody hell._

I suddenly become conscious of the fact that Potter's face, although it looked mostly a mixture of concern for my mental stability and hope (for what? I don't know.), held a twinge of that self-satisfied smirk I feared and expected it to have.

Uh-oh.

Think fast, Lily.

I blink hard and fixate my gaze on a spot right on his left shoulder. I begin rambling about a fly on his shoulder and how it's the most beautiful fly I've ever seen and what a shame it is that we aren't allowed to keep flies as pets at Hogwarts.

Potter's eyebrows are gradually inching closer and closer together, forming a little crease in between. He tears his eyes away from my rapidly blushing face to follow my gaze to his shoulder.

I seize this chance to grab my wand from my back pocket and transfigure a particle of dust into a fly behind my back wordlessly, while proclaiming loudly, "Oh, there it goes. No, come back, come back!"

I quickly stow away my wand and point out the fly to Potter while it flies (no pun intended) out the window.

His smirk completely disappears.

Score one for Lily.

Since that is now safely out of the way, I compose myself and calmly ask, "Potter, what are you doing in the Heads Compartment? Where's Remus? Does he know you have his badge?"

He sincerely looks as if his pride is wounded. "Evans, don't you think you know me well enough to know that I would _never_ do that to Remus, or any other of the Marauders, for that matter? I'm here because Dumbledore made me Head Boy."

"Dumbledore made _you_ Head Boy? That doesn't make any sense!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Yeah," Potter begins.

"Dumbledore have lost whatever was left of his brain," I cut in, not wanting to hear his arrogant, egotistical speech about how he won the position because of his unfailing charms.

But Potter doesn't speak after I finish my sentence.

It takes a minute or two before I process that Potter said the exact same thing as me at the same time.

Please, Merlin, please tell me that this doesn't mean we think alike.

After a moment's pause, Potter adds, "I know."

Our current situation, our synchronized statement, his remark, just strikes us both as so funny that we simultaneously burst into laughter.

Midway through our hysterics, Potter takes my hand and pulls me to sit on the couch, positioning himself next to me.

After we recollect ourselves, I become acutely aware of the fact that Potter has grown much taller this summer and that he must have done quite a bit of Quidditch training, because his shoulders seem broader and his arms and legs more muscular. I realize that he no longer has to artificially deepen his voice for me; it sounds pleasant and rich and deep without him trying. You know, if he weren't such an ignorant prat, he'd actually be a rather attractive boy.

I am currently sitting next to my worst enemy. He is Head Boy to my Head Girl, and I have to work with him all year. Why was I _laughing_ with him?

I should be throttling him.

This is completely ridiculous. What is wrong with me? Maybe there was some unknown side effect to my bruise-healing I did this morning.

I have issues.

Potter smiles as me, and we discuss this year and both our plans for this year.

Potter has plans? It's a first. I should probably mark this milestone on my calendar.

We eventually find out that we both plan on having a Halloween Party in the Great Hall and Winter Ball, as well as other activities throughout the year to promote inter-house unity, which we all know will probably never happen, given Gryffindor and Slytherin's history. But considering we're Heads and all that, we're supposed to at least _attempt_ to lull the students into a false sense of security. That is, until a gang of Slytherins comes up behind them and hexes the poor little first- year Gryffindors into bats.

It's all in good fun.

Well, not for the first year bat-students, I would imagine.

* * *

I just held a civilized conversation with the most barbaric person in the world.

Do you know if excessive chocolate consumption has side-effects that involve hallucination?

Potter grins at me and remarks, "You know, if we keep this up, we're going to have a great year."

I just grin back.

Because I know we won't be able to keep this up once the weird wears off my brain.

We hear the first knock on our door. Potter gets up to open the door, and the prefects begin to file in.

As soon as all of them are seated and registered on our prefects list, Potter nods at me.

I begin. "May I have your attention, please?" One or two of the prefects briefly turn in my direction, but none stop talking.

Oh. Well, that worked out nicely.

The bunch of little snobs.

_Be a good role model._

Oh, yeah.

I consider more polite but more effective way to get their attention.

I am contemplating using cowbells when I am suddenly startled by Potter bellowing, "_Shut up!_"

Amazingly, everyone immediately obeys. The silence is so loud that you could barely hear yourself think.

_So, tell me. Why didn't _I_ think of that?_

Lily, don't you dare admit that Potter did something better than you. You know you were going to consider loud bellowing right after you finished with cowbells.

Obviously.

I begin again, nervously glancing at Potter. "Er, thank you. Let's go around and introduce yourselves, so we all get to know each other, okay? Please say your names and your house, as well as something interesting about you. So, hi, guys. I'm Lily Evans, and I am your Head Girl for this Year. I'm a Gryffindor. My favorite class is Charms." A few sympathizers nod.

Potter smiles at me and continues, "Hey. I'm James Potter, and I'm Head Boy. I'm also a Gryffindor. I like to play Quidditch." At least six or seven girls in the room promptly give a dreamy sigh after their famously "hot" Quidditch Captain and Chaser's little speech.

My eyebrows travel an imperceptible distance north.

I nod, signaling the next prefect to continue. My eyes, however, wander back to Potter, who has moved to stand in a corner.

Then, I realize that, throughout his introduction, he had kept his eyes on me.

The thought is slightly disconcerting.

I take a few steps backwards, needing something solid to lean against.

Potter silently walks over to me and bends down, whispering in my ear, "Hey. I was thinking we should be on a first-name basis since we're co-Heads and all."

This elicits a mini-battle.

_That was a sweet suggestion on his part. Maybe I should accept._

Excuse me. Do you know who we're talking about right now?

_Yeah, we're just having a discussion about the attractive Quidditich player standing in front of you._

Merlin's most baggy y-fronts. You did not just say that.

_Well, okay, fine. He's not attractive; I'll give you that much. But that _was_ so sweet and completely unlike him._

Would you please listen to yourself? He's disgusting. Why would you _want _to call him James?

_But he offered so nicely! Ugh, just accept already. I mean, it's not like you're promising to marry him or anything._

I momentarily lose my mind and allow the nice side of me to win.

I lean up, smiling and whispering back, "Okay, James."

_How can it be that his name sounds so right on my tongue?_

Snap out of it right this moment, Lily. You sound like a dolt.

_Don't be too hard on yourself. You feel sick today, that's all. Maybe you didn't eat enough for breakfast._

"Good, Lily. I'm glad." He straightens up and gives me a lopsided grin.

I melt a little inside.

Or maybe the butter on my breakfast toast solidified and is now melting again.

Yeah, it must be that.

I spend the rest of the prefect meeting replaying the attractive-male-angel/imaginary-fly scene in my head, and deciding exactly how lame my excuse was.

I mean, who thinks of blaming _that_ on a fly? Not to mention that the fly was previously nonexistent.

Who even gets into a situation like that in the first place?

I am so stupid.

James Potter probably now thinks that I am a delusional hormonal overly-emotional teenage witch who is incapable of dealing with measly little prefects. He's probably questioning why he ever liked me. He's probably wondering if I'm even a suitable candidate for Head Girl. He probably doesn't even want to work with me this year.

Not that I care. His pain is my pleasure.

* * *

The rest of the meeting goes pretty smoothly. James makes some really good suggestions, which I didn't expect at all. I had no idea he could actually pretend to be responsible. I thought it was physically impossible for him.

Maybe this year won't be so bad after all.

We assign the prefects patrol duty in pairs, leaving James and me to patrol the third and fourth floors together on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights.

But maybe we won't even have to talk. Then we won't have to fight.

It will all be okay.

Soon enough, our first meeting is over, and the prefects leave to go back to their own compartments; we've already arrived at school.

As we get off the train, James tells me that Hagrid, our Gamekeeper, will carry our trunks and belongings inside. He opens the doors for me and helps me out.

Who knew that civilized, gentlemanly behavior was so easy to fake?

I look up and take in the grandeur and majesty of Hogwarts. All thoughts vanish. I am home.

Suddenly James, who is walking next to me, breathes, "Hey, Lily?"

I blush inexplicably at the sound of my name coming from his mouth, and reply, "Yeah?"

"Did you know you have a faint bruise on the side of your face?"

Damn him. He _would_ notice.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review!

Chapter 4 will be up before you know it :]


	5. Chapter 4: Home Sweet Home

**A/N: **Ugh, guys, I'm so sorry. I know you get this from me a lot, but I really feel so awful that I haven't posted for so long. But here is Chapter 4, finally. I hope you like it, my dears!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Home Sweet Home**

The Great Hall is packed by the time we arrive. The Sorting has already finished, and all the first-years are already sitting at their House tables.

I make my best effort to slink into the Hall inconspicuously, because walking in late to the welcome feast with James Potter next to me isn't exactly on my list of things to do before I die.

James, however, makes that rather difficult on me. Aside from attracting all the girls' attention and acting as some sort of saliva-eliciting chemical on them, he looks _happy_ to be strolling into the deadly clutches of gossipy teenage witches and wizards with me. He's actually _waving_ and _smiling _at our fellow classmates.

What in the name of Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts does he think he's doing?

I hiss at him, "James! Do you not comprehend the seriousness of our current predicament? There are only about, oh, 600 or so pairs of unrelenting eyes fixated on us. It's really rather disturbing, and our reputations could potentially be in jeopardy. Would you please wipe that smirk off your face before I have to do it for you?"

He turns those hazel eyes of his to me and whispers, "Er, right. Sorry, Lily."

He immediately proceeds to rearrange his face into an expression so grave that I am momentarily frightened by the possibility of working with a bipolar Head Boy all year.

I should be mad at him right now, but somehow I cannot muster up the strength. It has nothing to do with the fact that I just realized how deep and thoughtful those hazel eyes are, though. It's just that I really need food right now for my body to break down into ATP. Anger takes energy, you know.

I dare to take a look around the Hall. I meet the jealous stares of quite a few girls.

They are being completely unfair. I would gladly trade places with any of them right now. Alas, fate seems bent on my destruction.

"Welcome, my dear students!"

Those six hundred pairs of eyes transfer their gaze from us to Dumbledore, who is standing at the front of the Great Hall, holding up his hands.

I have never been more grateful for Dumbledore's magically enhanced voice.

Gotta love that man.

"As we begin yet another year at Hogwarts, I would like to clear my befuddled old mind of a few words before I forget. I look forward to a year filled with excitement and accomplishments from all of you. However, I must remind you of a few rules to keep you all from creating too much excitement. We wouldn't want that, now, would we? ..."

We finally complete the most arduous journey of my life, our destination being the Gryffindor table.

Look, my friends have even saved a seat for me. How I love them.

I rush over to my seat and plop myself down with a sigh. "Hey, Mermie and Liss, thanks for saving me a seat. Oh, hi, Mary. I didn't see you on the train. How was your summer? Where's Dorc— "

And then I realize what's wrong with my seat. It's next to the only other empty seat at the table, courtesy of the Marauders.

To think I believed my troubles were over.

I narrow my eyes and shoot their self-satisfied faces the most deadly of my infamous Prefect death-glares. "—as? I am going to _kill_ all of you. How dare you?"

Marlene giggles. "But not before you explain yourself."

It's times like these when I wonder why she's my best friend.

"Marlene! There's nothing to explain. We had to check the train for any lost children. It's our duties and Head Boy and Girl; Dumbledore wanted us to do it this year, instead of leading the first years in."

"Oooooh, James, you're Head Boy? That's awesome! You two are going to have so much fun working together," Alice chimes in, nudging me in the ribs.

I practice pretending to be a stone gargoyle.

"Aw, Lils, aren't you proud of our Ickle-Jamesie?" Sirius asks in a sickening tone of voice.

If that's how Sirius talks to children, I pity his future child.

But I valiantly choose to tune them out and turn pointedly in Dumbledore's direction.

He has already started his speech, his arms raised in welcome. He's wearing sweeping robes of royal purple that, I must say, _do_ go nicely with his blue eyes and white beard.

Speaking of beards, you know how we always swear by Merlin's beard? Personally, I think Dumbledore has a lovely beard to swear by. But anyway...

"… Mr. Filch would like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is 'forbidden' for a reason. Also, boys, please refrain from attempting to sneak into girls' dormitories; our charms seem to have worked for the past 300 years."

There are some embarrassed looks and a few snickers. Well, I guess we now know who tried to sneak into the girls' rooms.

"With regard to pets, please try to keep them in control, as I personally prefer not to step in toad excrement when I wander the halls at night. Lastly, I would like to see Ms. Lily Evans and Mr. James Potter after the feast. Well, that's all for now. We will address any other issues as they arise. There is exquisite food awaiting all of your rumbling stomachs. As Muggles say, dig in!"

The Hall explodes in cheers and applause—with the exception of the Slytherin table, of course—, which die down as soon as food begins to fill the plates on the tables.

Having decided that my desire for nourishment was too important to leave unfulfilled, I stonily turn back to my plate and help myself to some mashed potatoes.

I am reveling in the glory of properly buttered mashed potatoes when I notice James taking out a quill and a little slip of parchment from the pocket of his robe underneath the table. He scribbles something on the parchment and slips it into my hand.

Following his example, I open the paper under the table and read:

_**Lily, I'm really sorry that they're being so immature about this.**_

Is it possible that Mr. Insensitive has a sensitive side?

Eh, probably not.

But the food starts to kick in, and I get a little dizzy.

I tuck the parchment into my pocket and offer James a little smile.

He grins back.

We are interrupted by a loud hoot of laughter from none other than Sirius Black. "Look at those lovebirds. Go get married, why don't you?"

James frowns. "Padfoot. Stop it. Clearly Lily doesn't feel well today, and you guys are just making her feel worse. Knock it off."

I would gladly give a million Galleons just to see the look on Sirius's face again.

I seize the opportunity of this rare moment of silence to repeat my unanswered question. "Where's Dorcas? She wasn't on the train, either."

Alice looks up worriedly from her pasta. "Dorc's mother was worried about the current situation, you know, with You-Know-Who and all. She asked Dumbledore if she could Floo Dorc in instead, and Dumbledore agreed. She'll be arriving right after dinner."

I have been quite deprived of news all summer, especially since the Ministry of Magic seems intent on keeping this You-Know-Who business quiet and doesn't provide us with any useful information via the Daily Prophet. I eagerly ask, "Yeah, what's up with that?"

To my surprise, James answers first. "My dad—he works for the Ministry—said that You-Know-Who is gaining strength and followers. There've been rumors that some of the students here are considering joining him, especially the Slytherins, even Sirius's younger brother."

_What?_ Regulus Black? But he's barely even sixteen! James must be joking. No one in their right mind would want to search for death at such a young age. I turn to Sirius, hoping that he'll announce in a loud voice how terrible James is at lying, but the odds are not in my favor today. Sirius is staring down at his plate and mutters something under his breath, his mischievous features rearranged into a stony expression.

James pats him on the back and continues. "There've been quite a few murders this summer, and people are getting nervous..." He sneaks a sideways glance at me, his eyebrows knit together. "…They're said to be targeting Muggleborns."

I will my larynx to create one of those nonchalant, light-hearted laughs that Muggle novels are forever talking about, but I only manage to cough up a very unattractive sound that lies somewhere between a squeak and a choke. "Well, we're all in Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's still around, so we've got nothing to worry about, right?"

As I look around the table for signs of confirmation, I realize that Mary MacDonald, who also happens to be Muggleborn, has gone completely white, which is quite an achievement, considering her fair Irish skin is so pale already. Alice puts an arm around her.

I decide it would be wise to change the topic. "So, girls, I hear Mary's going to be your new roommate? But you all must come visit me sometime in the Heads' Dorm; otherwise, I will be so lonely."

I wince at my own words. Abrupt changes of topics have never been my strength, you see. They tend to become rather awkward and confusing for everyone else, having an effect similar to that of an overdose of Firewhiskey.

Marlene, catching my eye and seeming to understand my intentions behind my awkward shift in conversation, tosses her beautiful head of hair and croons, "Oh, no, she won't. She'll have Ickle-Jamesie to keep her company? But, don't worry. We'll come comfort our dear little Lily when Jamesie is off at Quidditch practice, won't we, girls?"

Of course, this sets off a whole storm of plans for sleepovers and crooning and teasing.

Even Mary appears to have recovered from resembling an Inferius somewhat, offering a weak smile and nod.

And then, in the middle of the turmoil, I discover my secret weapon of mass destruction that I shall unleash on Marlene.

I catch her turning toward Sirius, fluttering her eyelashes and saying, "Hey, Sirius. You know that you have a bit of mashed potato right…" She leans up and places a hand on the side of his face, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with her napkin. "… there."

She then pats his cheek and laughs the sweetest laugh I have ever heard from her.

Sirius's expression, quite frankly, resembles the expression I imagine he would have if he were invited to play for the Holyhead Harpies.

By this point, I am positively radiating triumph.

Sarlene and Mirius—sorry, I mean, Marlene and Sirius—definitely have quite a bit of chemistry going on here.

Deny it as you may, Marlene, but_ the _Lily Evans sees all and knows all.

How sweet the taste of an ironic victory! Marlene McKinnon, whose ancient enmity with Sirius Black has nearly rivaled that of mine with James Potter, has finally succumbed to his seductive charm.

Before I simply faint with the sheer delight of it all and/or suffocate on the overly decorative words flooding my thoughts, I mentally kick myself back to reality and remind myself that Dumbledore wants to speak to us after the feast.

I nudge James in the ribs. "If you're done eating, we can ask if Dumbledore will speak to us a bit early so we can go to our rooms and unpack."

James seems to understand that I want some quiet time. "I'm done, and I'm tired, too. Come on. Let's go."

"Aw, Lils, leaving so soon?"

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Do you need us to come?"

"Don't get caught snogging Ickle-Jamesie in the hallway!"

I smile at Alice and Mary and roll my eyes at the others. "I'm fine, Liss, dear, don't worry. No, it's alright, Mary, thank you, though. As for you, Sirius Black, shut up. We all know it's you we should be worried about. It's quite rude for the pot to call the kettle _black_, you know."

I get up, noting Sirius's utterly confused expression. His mouth is slightly open, his head titled to the side, trying and failing to figure out the inner meaning of my last (very punny!) sentence.

I flip my hair at him, just for good measure, before setting off with James.

* * *

**A/N:** But look on the bright side! I have Chapter 5 written already, and I have finished with midterms, which only leaves more time for writing!

Do you think I'm dragging out their first day too much? Would you like more action between Lily and James, or more girl-talk between Lily and her friends? Is my writing style too casual? Please, I would love some feedback. Anything at all would be deeply appreciated.


	6. Chapter 5: Bed, Bath, and Beyond

**A/N:** I feel so accomplished, you guys. I actually wrote Chapter 6 already. Since I'm a bit ahead, I'll be posting more frequently now! You guys are my inspiration. I hope you like Chapter 5!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Bed, Bath, and Beyond**

Half an hour later, we are walking down an empty corridor on the third floor, listening to Dumbledore explain the responsibilities of the Head Boy and Girl.

The more he talks, the more nervous I become. What if I can't deal with all this pressure?

_What if they present me with a plaque at graduation, engraved with "Lily Evans, 1977: Worst Head Girl in Hogwarts History"?_

I sense James's eyes on me, and I look up. He gives me a reassuring smile.

All thoughts vanish from my brain; my head feels disconnected from my body.

Fear? Nerves? Sheer terror? What are they, again?

It's almost as if he read my mind.

Who am I kidding? James Potter surely doesn't have a drop of Seer blood in him, and empathy is definitely a word unavailable in his vocabulary list.

I am jerked out of my thoughts as we abruptly come to a stop in front of a painting of a pretty blonde-haired child who seems to be around seven years old.

"Hello, my dear Aurelia. How are you today?" Dumbledore pleasantly asks, as if people normally go around speaking to paintings.

Which, of course, they do, in the wizarding world.

"I'm quite well, Professor," the girl replies in a sweet voice, "and are these our new Heads?"

"Yes, indeed, Aurelia. I suppose I can leave them here with you, no? I trust you will take good care of them. I'm getting a little dizzy after all that scrumptious pudding at the feast today. Simply delightful. Well, goodnight, Ms. Evans, Mr. Potter, Aurelia." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkle over the top of his spectacles as he turns around and strides off, his deep purple robes billowing around him.

_Pudding?_

I didn't even know people could become dizzy after eating pudding.

I exchange a concerned glance with James. Clearly, I am not the only one questioning Dumbledore's mental health.

Even Aurelia seems to be holding back her laughter.

"Goodnight, Professor," we answer before turning back to Aurelia, who smiles at us charmingly.

"Er…. Hi, Aurelia," I begin. As we have seen before, introductions have never been my strength. "I'm Lily Evans, and this is James Potter."

Luckily, though, Aurelia doesn't seem to mind my inadequate greeting. "I'm glad to be your portrait. You two look _much _nicer than the set of Slytherin Heads a couple years ago," she babbles. "First, I think you'll want to set a password that neither of you will forget."

James looks at me, his lips twitching. "How about 'Hogwarts's pudding'?"

We all burst out laughing.

Aurelia, still giggling, manages to say, "'Hogwarts's pudding' it is, then. Dumbledore insists that you have to promise not to tell _anyone_ else the password, though. There are four portraits of me in the Heads' Rooms: one out here, one in each of your rooms, and one in the Heads' Common Room. If anyone comes to visit you two, I will contact you through the one closest to you and ask your permission to let them in."

James gives me an alarmed look. I know what he's thinking: _she can come into our bedrooms?_

Personally, I would rather not have a seven-year-old pop up into my bedroom when I'm changing.

As for James, though, I would really rather not know what he does in his bedroom that would require secrecy.

Maybe he doesn't want to get caught making out with girls.

Bloody hell, Lily. Why are you even picturing that? That is just _beyond _gross.

Aurelia seems to know what we're thinking, which is unsettling, because if you think about it, this seven-year-old is actually more like 362 years old. "I promise not to walk in on you guys without a warning. Believe me, I _don't_ want to see what goes on in your rooms."

I laugh nervously.

Aurelia grins and continues, "You can also choose to have your meals in here; just tell me and I will let the house-elves know. That's all for now, I think. Go ahead in, unpack, and go to bed. You both look exhausted. I hope you like the rooms."

"I'm sure we will," James reassures her.

"Thanks, Aurelia, we really appreciate it," I say, as she swings forward.

I climb through the portrait hole, James behind me.

When I straighten up and look around, I gasp. The Common Room is absolutely beautiful. The entire circular room is decorated in shades of the deepest red and the richest gold. To our right, a fire flickers cheerfully in the hearth, and a few soft, cushioned sofas are arranged around it. On our left, there is a row of huge windows, which are covered by drapes of red and gold, with a lovely mahogany desk, perfect for doing homework, placed in front of it. Across the room from us, a balcony, supported by fabric-adorned pillars and magic and fenced by a gold railing, reaches out nearly a third of the way across the room above the windows, with staircases winding up to it on either side.

I could live here forever.

I fly across the room and up one of the carpeted staircases. There are three doors on the balcony. The first one I see has a delightful cherry wood door with a golden plaque carved with "_Lily Evans, Head Girl_". I throw open the door and stand there, my mouth hanging open, completely astonished.

The room is my dream room. The elegant dresser, the matching nightstand, the soft bed, the crisp sheets, the fluffy pillows, the warm rug, the stylish drapes—I couldn't have possibly asked for more.

I sink down onto my bed and begin taking clothes out of my trunk, which is lying on the bed, and placing them into the dresser.

As I finish unpacking, I notice another door near the foot of my bed. I tentatively open it and step into a beautiful white bathroom, complete with towels and, in the center of the room, a huge bath, almost an exact replica of the one in the prefect's bathroom, albeit a little smaller.

The door on the other side of the bath opens, and James steps in.

Grinning at me, he asks, "Have you seen your room? This was definitely worth becoming Head Boy for."

I smile back, replying, "Are you kidding? This is perfect. We'll have to thank Dumbledore later."

"Deal. There's just one problem…."

Confused, I ask, "What?"

"There's only one bathroom. We'll have to work out a schedule. Do you shower in the mornings or at night?"

"At night," I answer warily, half expecting him to fight with me over our shower schedule.

But he doesn't.

"Okay," he says, "I'll shower in the mornings, then. You can have the bathroom after me in the mornings to do whatever you need to do, so you can sleep in a bit; I'll knock on your door to wake you up as soon as I'm done showering. In the evenings, I'll take the bathroom after you, so you can go to bed a bit earlier."

I must be dreaming.

Whatever I expected, it _most definitely_ wasn't this. This could just be the sweetest _and _most considerate offer anyone has ever made me.

This is _not_ something James Potter would say to me.

"A-a-are you sure?" I squeak out, still not convinced I'm awake.

"Yeah, I've got Quidditch practices late at night later on in the year, anyway, and I might have to shower at night. I can't expect you to wait up for me to shower before me."

"Well, thanks, James." In a momentary and delusional rush of gratitude, I cross the room and hug him.

He wraps his strong arms around me and chuckles softly. "Hey, look, it's not a problem at all. This is what, er, friends are for, isn't it? You're tired. Go to bed, Lily, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Except I don't want to go to bed. I hold him tighter against me. I want to stay here forever, enveloped in his arms and leaning against that beautiful sculpted chest and breathing in the wonderfully sweet scent of—

Ew. What am I doing?

I yank myself back and look down at the bathroom's tiles, hoping my red hair will somehow disguise the heat rapidly creeping up my face. I straighten my shirt, clearing my throat loudly.

Oh my God, Lily, you can't just hug your worst enemy. That's like Girl Rule #1.

James, who looks just as embarrassed and has the oddest pained expression on his face, mutters, "Well, go ahead and shower. I'll be going now. Goodnight."

He turns and vanishes through his door.

I stand there for a good five minutes before I come back to my senses.

I undress and step into the bath, thinking over the many eccentricities of James Potter and all the humiliating moments of my teenage life.

I think I've embarrassed myself in public (and not to mention in front of my arch-nemesis!) a total of at least three times in one day.

That must be some sort of world record.

When I finally flop down into the soft comfort of my bed, I barely have time to push my trunk onto the floor before I fall asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** How did you like Chapter 5? The more you tell me about what you do and don't like, the better I can fit my writing to your tastes, and (hopefully) the more you'll like the story. It's win-win for all of us!

In addition, I may just be tempted to post/ write more often if you _do_ review...

No, I don' believe in bribery. What are you talking about?


	7. Chapter 6: Girls and Boys

**A/N:** Hey, guys. I present you with Chapter 6, in which Lily is still pitifully in denial. Enjoy (hopefully)!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Girls and Boys**

_A black-haired boy leans over me, his messy hair falling over his glasses into his eyes. I look up at him, transfixed, unable to look anywhere but into those beautiful hazel eyes. He tilts his head closer to me, his nose brushing against mine, his lips barely a centimeter from mine. He whispers, "Lily, I… I love you. I always have."_

_My heart pounds in my chest, bursting to tell him how much I love him as well. I am gathering up my voice when he speaks again._

"_Lily," he says, "wake up."_

_Wait, why? Damn him. He was about to kiss me. I was about to tell him I love him. We were about to get married and have seventeen children. Why would I wake up?_

"_Lily," he repeats. "Are you in there?"_

_Of course I'm here, you silly boy. Kiss me. Now._

_I reach up to thread my fingers through that gloriously silky hair to keep him here, next to me, forever. But he's already slipping away. My fingers close on air._

"_Lily," he calls to me. "You need to wake up."_

My eyes pop open. Where am I?

"Lily," James calls on the other side of my bathroom door, "wake up."

Oh, right. In my room in the Heads' Dorms at Hogwarts.

And James Potter is knocking on my door.

"James?" I yawn sleepily. "You can come in."

"Wait, really?"

Stupid hormonal boys. "Yeah, you dolt, I don't sleep naked."

"Oh." He sounds disappointed. "Well, I wouldn't know, would I?"

He opens the door, grinning.

"Hey." I say. Suddenly I remember everything that happened last night, and I awkwardly sit up, trying to avoid his eyes.

But James seems to have forgotten. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," he quips while sitting himself on the edge of my bed.

"That's a Muggle saying. Where'd you learn that from?" I curiously ask.

He shrugs. "Eh, it's the only one I know. You're hard to wake up, Lily."

I glare at him. "I'm a deep sleeper. And I was in the middle of a really good dream about…" I search every nook and cranny of my brain, trying to grasp onto something, _anything_, that would remind me of that wonderful dream. "…. I don't remember, actually."

"Well, I apologize for waking you up, my lady," James smiles. "But it's your turn for the shower, and I figured you'd want to get up a bit early for the first full day of school. You should turn off your alarm clock before it goes off in five minutes."

I lean over the side of my bed, grab my wand, and tap the alarm clock with it. "I hate alarms. I'm always in a bad mood if I have to wake up by alarm, partly because I hate the obnoxious beeping, and partly because I have trained myself to sleep through the beeping and wind up being late anyway."

James laughs, and I feel oddly proud of myself for being the cause of that laughter.

"I can wake you up every day, if you want. It's not a problem, and it's actually better for me if you're in a good mood." He looks at me, misreading my expression of guilt as one of distrust. "Don't worry," he hastily adds, "I won't forget, I promise."

* * *

James waits for me in our Common Room while I shower and change and do my makeup. Although I'm sure he's starving, he doesn't utter a single word.

I can't help thinking how lucky his future wife will be to have a husband who will wait for her uncomplainingly no matter what she does.

And then I mentally pinch myself for thinking disturbing thoughts and accidentally poke myself in the eye with the mascara brush.

If you've ever done that, you know how much it hurts.

When I've somewhat succeeded in making my eye slightly less watery and am finally ready to go down to breakfast, I walk down the staircase and find him sitting in an armchair, reading _Quidditch through the Ages_. James looks up when I reach him.

"You look beautiful." He closes his book. "Ready to go?"

"Thanks," I reply. Clearly he has not yet seen my watery eye, or is wisely choosing to ignore it. I swear, the more this boy's around me, the more of my wisdom and tact is absorbed by him through some sort of weird magical osmosis. "And yeah, if you are."

* * *

"No snogging last night, Evans?" Sirius Black calls when we walk into the Great Hall.

Peter Pettigrew chuckles.

"Nope, Black, although I'm sure the same can't be said for you," I throw back at him as we sit down to a deliciously hot breakfast. "Morning, girls."

"Hey, Lils," Marlene begins. "Guess who got here—"

Her words are cut off as a pair of arms is wrapped around me, and I twist around to find Dorcas Meadowes hugging me and squealing strings of incomprehensible words.

"Merlin, Dorc! It's so good to see you again. I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you got here last night; Dumbledore wanted to see us, but never mind that— how was your summer?" I hug her back.

"Oh my God, Lily, it's so good to see you too!" Dorcas rambles. "My summer was awesome. We went to France, and it was awfully nice there."

"She means that the boys were awfully nice there," Marlene interjects.

Dorc glares at her. "You're one to talk. You go through at least nine boys every month in the summer."

"I do not," Mermie objects, looking wounded.

"Uh, yes, you do," Alice, Dorcas, and I chime in.

"Okay, fine, I do," Marlene concedes. "But I'm trying to change." We all roll our eyes. "And besides, you all love me anyway."

"'Course we do, silly," I say. "I'm so glad we're all here again. I missed you all _terribly_, what with Petunia on my case every single second of every day."

"Your parents must like flowers," Sirius mutters.

"Very good observation, Black," I say as Remus, Peter, and James try to keep straight faces. "And now that we've established that you've been eavesdropping, the only thing safe to talk about—"

"—is how we're going to have a sleepover this Friday in your room, Lils," Marlene finishes for me. "We need a girls' night."

"Wait, you're just going to leave Mary in your room on a Friday night?" I ask.

"Nope, she completely agreed with us and said she wanted to hang out with her friends next door anyway," Liss answers.

I look over at Mary eating breakfast with her friends. She looks up and waves at me, and I wave back, feeling secretly and guiltily glad that my friends hadn't yet replaced me with her.

* * *

The rest of the week passes by in a blur.

McGonagall gives her usual NEWT student speech, which, for the most part, succeeds in making us faint in fright and apprehension of the coming year. The only people in the class who appear completely undaunted are James and Sirius. Remus doesn't look as panicked as the rest of us, but is quietly listening and taking notes. Peter, on the other hand, looks even tearier that usual, which could potentially mean that he needs to go to the bathroom but is too intimidated by McGonagall to ask. Poor boy. He tries so hard.

Slughorn's class is uneventful. He pats me on the shoulder a few times and praises all my potions in carrying tones. I avoid Severus's eyes, which I know are on me, but would flicker away, embarrassed, if I met them.

Flitwick squeaks and topples off his pile of books when I turn vinegar into wine and then back into vinegar in front of the class. James smiles admiringly at me from the back of the room.

Divination is, as always, utterly pointless and confusing.

I manage to get my hand stuck inside some sort of demented jawed cactus during Herbology and end up asking Alice to get it out, while Marlene and Dorcas laugh so hard they start crying. Herbology has never been my forte. Typically only one of two things happen when you put me in a room with a plant: either I accidentally kill the plant, or the plant nearly (and most likely not accidentally) kills me.

Binns is… well, ghostly, and History of Magic is ghastly.

We review our defense spells in Defense against the Dark Arts by dueling with a partner, but seeing as mine was Peter Pettigrew, my review sessions turned out to be more similar to tutoring sessions, until James offered to trade places with me. I practiced with Remus, who is quite handy with his spellwork, and watched

The only things I think about all day are the sleepover this week and James Potter's weird behavior.

* * *

"So what'd Dumbledore say about the Winter Ball, Lils?" Marlene asks as she braids my hair in my room after dinner on Friday.

"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you! He said that he thought it was a marvelous idea and that he couldn't wait for the chance to dance his heart out to the Weird Sisters' music," I answer.

Dorcas, who is sprawled on her stomach on my bed, snorts. "Odd man, that Dumbledore. But he's also the best Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had and probably the best wizard the world will ever see, on top of that."

"And I'm excited to see who you all are going to go with," Alice says dreamily from the floor, where she is hugging her legs and leaning against my dresser.

Marlene laughs. "Well, we know there's at least one person in this room who _definitely _has a date. Alice will obviously be going with Frank Longbottom."

Alice blushes and nervously twists her long, wavy hair. "That's not true," she protests weakly. "I don't have a crush on him, and he probably doesn't like me anyway."

She is so clueless.

"Oh, come _on_, Alice," I roll my eyes. "You're practically in love with him, and he's completely smitten with you. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know other girls exist."

"Yeah," Marlene agrees, "there's a reason he always drops his books whenever you're within thirty feet of him, you know, and every time he talks to you, his voice becomes at least three octaves higher. You two are so adorably oblivious."

"Liss," adds Dorcas, "yesterday, he tried to ask you if he could walk you to Herbology, but you were packing up your books, and he gave up halfway through the second time he tried to get your attention."

Alice's cheeks are bright red by the time we finish.

I decide that pressing the topic any further would do wonders for neither their relationship nor Alice's blood pressure, so I turn to Marlene.

"So, Mermie," I say casually, "anything to tell us about a certain Sirius Black?"

Her dark blue eyes widen, startled, but she quickly recovers her composure. "Sirius Black? Nothing, other than the fact that he still won't accept that he's not the best looking wizard in the world."

"Well," I tilt my head. "You seem to agree with him on that particular issue, don't you? Come on, Marlene, don't deny it. You're our best friend; we've known you for seven years. I can read you like an open book. Cough it up."

Marlene sighs. "Blimey, you don't miss _anything_, do you? It's not that I like him, really. It's just that I find him fascinating and hilarious and never boring to be around. Besides, he _is_ pretty good-looking."

"You two would look beautiful together," Alice remarks, as Dorcas and I fervently nod.

"But Lily and James Potter would look _just_ as beautiful, wouldn't they, girls?" Marlene slyly asks, the corners of her mouth twitching.

I send her the dirtiest look I can manage. "Marlene McKinnon! James and I are not and will never be together. I'm barely even successful just trying not to kill him. The only thing we have in common is that we have nothing in common with each other."

Alice uses her most motherly and sympathetic tone of voice. "Lily, darling, that doesn't even make sense."

"Yeah," says Marlene, "and what Alice is too nice to say is that you're so far in denial that you're probably being eaten by alligators."

"Alligators don't live at the bottom of the Nile River, Marlene," Dorcas points out. "Those would be crocodiles."

"Whatever," Marlene waves a hand in Dorcas's direction. "I could never get my Muggle animals straight anyway. My point still stands. Lily and James are clearly perfect for each other."

"The only thing clear to me is that you're obviously delusional," I say.

"Look at the evidence, Lils," Marlene counters. "You're pretty and elegant; he's hot and a Quidditch _god_. You two would make totally gorgeous children."

That _would_ be the first thing Marlene thinks of. And me, elegant? Only in my dreams.

"That is beyond disgusting, Mermie," I declare.

"You two are Head Boy and Head Girl, and you two are easily the best in our year. You're the best at Potions and Charms, and you can't deny that he's amazing at Defense and Transfiguration," Dorcas adds, as if she were speaking to a stubborn two-year old.

"You need someone to cheer you up and keep you from getting too serious about things sometimes, Lils, and James's never-failing humor is perfect for that," says Alice.

"And we all know that you need someone who treats you like a princess. Face it, you like being pampered a bit and you have quite a sense of pride, Lily," Marlene cuts across my protests. "James has always been so completely in love with you, and he'd definitely treasure you more than any other man you'll ever meet would."

This is just too much for me.

"That just proves how you don't know him as I do," I say bitterly. "James Potter is a bloody arrogant fool, and he only wants me because I'm the only girl who's ever declined to give him exactly what he wants. If, God forbid, I ever give in to him, he would probably lose interest in me in less than a second. Now, if you're done glorifying him, I'm tired and would really appreciate it if we just went to bed now."

I climb into my sleeping bag in our neat little row on the floor, refusing to look at the girls' exasperated and confused expressions. "Good night, girls."

But I stay awake for a long time that night, staring into the dark.

They've known me for long enough to understand the one thing I haven't told them.

If I'm honest with myself, I don't want and will never want to be in relationship with James Potter because it would hurt too much if he were to just throw me away like trash after I allow myself to get attached to him.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm trying to stay at least 2 chapters ahead of what I'm publishing, so that I won't have to feel guilty for leaving you guys waiting for so long, because I love you all so much.

Please review! Really, what you write helps me a lot and gives me motivation to write more.

I think I'm probably going to be updating every Friday evening, regularly, so I hope to see you back then!


	8. Chapter 7: Common Misconceptions

**A/N: **Hey, guys. I'm so glad to see you're back. You guys are the world to me. First off, I want to tell you (sadly) that I lied. Last chapter, I told you that I would be updating every week. Unfortunately, you are going to have to wait 2 weeks. Because I have been getting requests for longer chapters, which take a longer time to write, I'm going to have to update less often, like once every two Fridays. Secondly, much thanks to all those who reviewed the story. A shout-out goes to Cariza (papercranes) for being of so much help to me, and also to my dear beta, tinkerbelle0603. I deeply appreciate your kind words and support, as well as your encouragement and criticism, but that goes for everyone who reads this fanfiction. Lily, as always, is in denial. There's some awfully fluffy stuff at the end of this chapter; I don't know if you guys will like it, but I remember that you said you wanted more James/ Lily scenes. Enjoy, I hope!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Common Misconceptions**

"Good morning, class! Today, we will be attempting to brew one of the most difficult, complex, and dangerous potions known to the wizarding world," Slughorn booms as he bounces into the Potions dungeon. His voice is really far too loud and excited for first class on a Monday morning.

All thirty of the students in the room immediately open their groggy eyes, unstick their cheeks from the front covers of the books in front of them, on which they had fallen asleep, or attempt to poke and pinch themselves into some degree of stable consciousness.

I have been trying to wake Marlene for the past fifteen minutes in vain. I've tried whacking her with my potions book, squirting water into her hair, slapping her, kicking her, tickling her nose with a feather, threatening to feed her to the rats, and jabbing her with my wand. I decide to give up. After all, if Slughorn's obnoxiously thunderous voice doesn't do the trick, nothing will.

And you thought _I_ was a deep sleeper...

In a last ditch effort to prevent her from losing Gryffindor any more points for falling asleep in class, I desperately jam my index finger into her ribcage.

"Merumahmerma," she mutters, turning her head away from me on her potions book. Her arm flaps limply in my direction, clearly a sign for me to stop annoying her and let her sleep.

"Marlene McKinnon," I hiss viciously in her right ear, praying that this will work, "you're drooling, your hair is a mess, your robes are disheveled, and your mascara is all smeared. Oh, and Sirius Black happens to be sitting behind you."

She jerks awake, bolting straight up, arms failing comically. Her elbow misses my face by an inch. She pats her hair, smoothing it down, distraught, while her other hand wipes her mouth, feeling for any drool. She frowns, looking at me. "I'm not drooling," she says blearily.

I'm silently bursting with laughter inside, but I manage to simply shrug and turn to face the front of the room.

I'll have to remember that line, for the next time I need to wake Marlene.

"Would any brave soul like to take a stab at what this potion is?" Slughorn asks, pacing around in front of his desk. He looks at me pointedly, waiting for me to answer.

Oh, Merlin, please don't let him notice Marlene, who is trying and failing to make herself look like she hadn't just woken up around six and a half seconds ago.

But alas, as usual, Merlin is not on my side. Slughorn's eyes drift slowly to my right.

I need a quick distraction. My hand shoots up into the air.

His eyes flicker back to me, and he chuckles approvingly. "Ah, Miss Evans, my dear, what would you like to guess?"

"Could it be… Felix Felicis, perhaps, Professor?" I try to sound as if he's not entirely predictable.

"Quite right, Miss Evans. Tell me, how could you have possibly have guessed?"

Definitely not because he's been talking about how we're going to make Liquid Luck every single class last week.

"I'm really not quite sure, Professor. Shall we call it sheer luck?" I return.

Next to me, Marlene, finally somewhat conscious, groans and rolls her eyes. "Worst pun I've ever heard," she mutters under her breath.

But Slughorn seems to think differently. "Ah, Lily, ever so clever. Yes, very impressive. Take ten points for Gryffindor for a correct _and_ witty answer."

I beam at him before turning back to Marlene.

"I heard that, Mermie," I whisper, sending the ungrateful little lass a dirty look. "And besides, you owe me one. Lucky for you that Slughorn likes me. Otherwise, we would have lost ten points, and the Slytherins would be positively delighted."

She just grins sleepily at me.

"Well," continues Slughorn, "we'll be pairing up to make this potion, because it's so difficult. I don't expect any of you, even Miss Evans, to be successful the first time if you work alone." He winks at me and begins to call out names.

Marlene winds up with James, and Alice is working with Dorcas. Remus, that poor child, ends up with Peter as a partner. No wonder he looks so sickly.

I begin to wonder. Who, then, is my—

"Miss Evans, with Mr. Snape."

Oh, fantastic. I'd almost rather work with Peter now. I jealously steal a glance at Remus and Peter's cauldron, just in time to see Peter vanish behind a cloud of thick black smoke spewing from its contents.

"I'm sorry!" Peter wails, distraught. "I don't even know what happened."

"It's all right, but I _do_ believe I told you to get beetle knees, not needle bees, Peter," Remus tries to explain patiently, patting Peter on the shoulder, as James and Sirius erupt simultaneously into howls of incontrollable laughter.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around to find Severus standing in front of me. His long black hair drapes down over his face, and his old robes hang loosely on his thin figure. His hooked nose seems even more pronounced than I remembered. Seventh year seems to have treated him badly.

"Oh. Um. Hi," I say awkwardly.

It's sort of hard not to be awkward when you've avoided speaking to the person standing in front of you whenever possible for two years.

He waves vaguely in the direction of the supplies. "We should, er, get started."

"Yeah," I say, glad for an excuse to worm out of this sticky situation, "I'll get what we need."

I turn and walk as fast as I can to the supply cupboard. As I reach up to get a scoop of beetle eyes, I feel someone's eyes on me. I look over my shoulder and find James Potter watching me while he slices up his Mandrake roots. But as soon as I meet his eyes and raise my eyebrows slightly, his head snaps down, focusing on his work.

At the end of class, I am gathering up my books and turning to leave when I feel a hand on my arm.

"Lily," Severus says, "wait. I wanted to—"

I knew it would come to this; I understand what he's going to say before he says it. But while I can forgive him for saying that word, I know that it's not possible for us to go back to being friends.

"I know," I cut across him, regretting telling Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas to go ahead to Divination without me and not wanting to have to discuss this with Severus now, "and it's all right, really. You don't have to apologize. I understand; I'm not angry at you for that anymore. But it's just that we're so completely… different now than we were before, and I don't think we can fix that, at least for the moment, Severus." I sling my book bag onto my shoulder.

"Please," he pleads, "Lily, just give me a chance. It was a mistake; I'm not like that—"

"Lily," a voice calls from the door.

I turn in surprise, just as James Potter walks up to us, holding a roll of yellowed parchment out to me. "You left your Divination homework in the Common Room last night. I just found it, and I figured you'd want it."

"Oh, thanks," I say, confused. I was pretty sure I'd put my homework in my bag last night…. "I've got to go, Severus. I can't afford to be late to Divination again."

As I walk out the door with James, I look over my shoulder to give Severus a smile to prove that I don't hate him, but he's still standing there, an expression of pain etched across his face.

I almost resolve to go back to him and tell him we're still friends, but then I remember that if he cared all that much about my friendship, he should have thought about me before he went and joined his stupid little Death Eater clique. If he cared about _me_ that much, he wouldn't have called me a Mudblood.

* * *

As soon as we're out of hearing range, James turns to me. "Are you okay, Lily?" he asks, a crease between his eyebrows. "It looked like he was giving you a hard time."

I laugh. "No, it's okay. I'm fine, really. But why were you even up in our Common Room? You were supposed to be on your way to Divination."

He blushes adorably. Actually, that light pink color goes really well with his skin tone and hair color and eyes and maroon tie—

Ew. No. I did not just think that. I must cleanse myself of all such thoughts.

"Yeah, er, well, you looked like he wouldn't leave you alone," James mutters shyly, interrupting my self-scolding, "and, er, I decided to wait for you outside, just to make sure you were okay."

He glances at me. "But I wasn't stalking you, and I swear I wasn't eavesdropping. I couldn't hear your conversation over the noise in the corridor, anyway," he rushes to add defensively.

You know, that's really sort of sweet of him.

But in a completely creepy way, right, Lily?

Absolutely.

I should seriously consider copying the house-elves and bang my head against the nearest hard surface every time I think a corrupt thought.

My head is inching toward the closest wall when I realize that he's looking at me anxiously, waiting for my reaction.

Oh. Right. When people talk to you, they usually expect you to answer.

I steer myself away from the wall and try to appear remotely sane, attempting to pass it off by coughing.

"Oh. Uhm, that's really quite nice of you," I say, my eyes still watering from my recent fake cough attack.

I am definitely the most awkward witch to have ever lived.

But it seems to have worked. James instantly relaxes, looking pleased with himself. "Seriously? Well, I'm honored, my lady."

I laugh. _My lady_? Impressive show of chivalry, coming from James Potter.

"Yeah, thanks. And thanks for bringing my homework to me, too," I reply as we come to a stop outside the Divination entrance.

The tips of his ears turn red. "Oh, actually, that's _my_homework. I had to think up a plan to get you out of there, and I thought this would be a good excuse to come get you if I needed to, better than charging in there for no apparent reason, at any rate."

Hm. Who would have known that James Potter is indeed capable of thoughtfulness?

* * *

Dumbledore offers to ask teachers to patrol for us the first week of school, so on Wednesday evening, James is waiting for me in the Common Room so we can patrol together for the first time.

"Ready to go?" he asks, far more cheerfully than I feel.

"Yes, if you are," I answer.

But the truth is that I'm not ready at all. With James Potter, who knows what will happen? The fact that I have a stack of homework still awaiting me doesn't help much, either. I would actually much rather be in my soundproof room on my bed writing my History of Magic essay while belting out "Addictive as Amortentia".

What? No. I have a life.

We make our way silently to the third floor. As soon as I reach the top of the staircase, I notice strange slurping sounds coming from the broom cupboard nearest the stairs. I immediately enter full panic mode. What is that? Maybe it's a horde of drooling spiders. Maybe it's a rabid dog. Maybe—

James walks straight up to the cupboard.

"Er, James," I call out, heart pounding, nervous that the cupboard door will burst open and release the unknown terrors within, "I don't think that's a—"

"Diggory," he says to the broom cupboard in a reprimanding and exasperated voice, "you have five minutes to get out of there. And no more snogging in the halls, mind you." He turns back to me. "Come on, let's go."

My eyes widen in a mixture of relief, realization, and disgust. "Bloody _hell_. You don't mean to say that those sounds were people _snogging_?"

James laughs. "There are only two people in the world who can make slurps quite that loud when snogging, and one of them happens to be my best friend. But seeing as Sirius is still drawing his star chart for Astrology in Gryffindor Tower, that must be Amos Diggory."

"Clever deduction," I tease him. "Not bad at all."

"Ah, you know me. I'm a natural Sherlock Holmes."

I snort. Not one of my most ladylike sounds. "Another Muggle reference? You are nothing if not unexpected, James Potter."

He winks cheekily. "But I can be anything for you, my princess."

You know, cheesy and stupid as they may be, I'm sort of enjoying these nicknames. Not that I would ever admit it to any animate object.

"So," I say, changing the topic, "does Sirius go around snogging girls often?"

He looks up sharply, so quickly that I'm almost afraid he cricked his neck. "Not too often now, anyway. Why do you ask?"

"Marlene seems to be taking an interest in him," I say casually. "Do you think they'd be a good couple?"

"Oh," he says, appearing strangely relieved about something, "I think they'd be awesome together, actually. I think he likes her a bit, now that you mention it. She might be the reason he stopped snogging random girls so much. I'd noticed that it was a recent thing."

"I hope so."

We walk in silence for a bit longer, neither of us knowing how to break the heavy tension that six years of arguments had wrought.

"James," I say, "I have a question."

"Let's pray I have an answer."

I smile in spite of myself. "I've known you for about seven years, and I still don't know anything about you, practically."

"Then get to know me, my lady," he answers cockily, his voice teasing and boyish.

I roll my eyes. "I'm in the process of doing so. But I need to know your favorite color first."

"It's green," he replies automatically, as if he didn't even have to think about it, "like the color of leaves in the summer, or like glittering emeralds, or like the sea in the summer."

Interesting. I would never guess that James Potter is capable of appreciation of such things in life. I would think that he would be a fan of more flashy colors.

"Poetic. I approve," I say, nodding. "In case you're wondering, mine is—"

"Red," he interrupts, "but not a shallow or bright red, because those are too common and cheap. A dark, passionate, deep, rich red. Which you find ironic, because your hair is red, and you hate your hair color, but you love red."

I stop in my tracks and stare at him. How did he even know that? I don't remember telling him anything of the sort at all. How is it even possible that he could remember that about me?

He senses that I stopped, and he turns around to look at me. He shrugs, as if reading my thoughts. "Come on," he calls, waiting for me.

I walk up to join him. "Well, James Potter," I say when I reach him, still recovering from my astonishment, "that was quite remarkable."

"What can I say? I'm a remarkable human being on the whole," he declares loftily, lifting his chin up jokingly and putting on a face to imitate the look of a snotty aristocrat.

"Are you an only child? Because you act like one," I tease, nudging him with my shoulder.

"Yes, I am, and a spoiled brat, too. But you are actually no better, being the youngest child in the family, and the only thing that saves you from being a little horror like me is your annoying older sister, Petunia." He nudges me back gently.

"You have an extraordinary talent for memorizing unimportant things," I comment to him, grinning.

He turns pink again and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Unimportant to you, perhaps."

However, that makes no sense whatsoever, so I decide to ignore it and not pursue the subject.

"Okay," I say, "let's play a game. I pick a topic, and you tell me about yourself relating to this topic, and then you tell me what you know about this topic and me. If you're wrong, I'll correct you."

"Okay," he agrees, "but I doubt I'll ever be wrong."

"Is that so, Mr. Potter? Well, let's get started. Friends."

"My best friends are Sirius, Remus, and Peter. We call ourselves the Marauders, and we are every teacher's nightmare. I'm closest to Sirius, and he lives at my house. I would do anything for any of the Marauders in a heartbeat. As for you, your best friends are Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas, but you're closest with Marlene, who is the most like you and also most different from you out of all of them. Alice is the sweet, nice one, and Dorcas is the most normal one. You tell them everything, and you don't think you could live without them. You're fiercely loyal to them, even when they're being stupid, and you would also do anything for them."

My first thought is: Sirius _lives_ with him? Blimey, I pity Mrs. Potter. She must live in constant terror of her house exploding. And I never knew the Marauders were so loyal to each other.

But most surprising of all is the amount of attention he pays to us. I've never seen this careful, quiet, analyzing side of James Potter before, and I must say, I prefer this side by far.

"Not bad at all," I pronounce cautiously, still trying to figure him out.

"I know," he smirks, looking proud of himself. "Want to hear more?"

"Go for it," I tell him, trying to pretend that I'm not insanely curious about what he knows and thinks of me.

"Your favorite flower is the rose, which you think is stupid because it's so clichéd and romantic and overrated, but you like it anyway. You don't like lilies too much, ironically, because you don't think they're elegant enough," he says in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "You like Quidditch, but you've never played. You've never even been on a broom, because you're afraid of heights, which is a pity, because you would look really good flying. You love children, and you want to have four children in future, two of which will be twins. You don't get along with your sister, even though she used to be your best friend, and you miss her terribly. You like pink clothes, mostly because you think you could never wear them because they would clash too much with your hair. You always smell faintly like roses and lavender, but your hair usually smells like cherry blossoms or citrus, depending on your shampoo."

What?

How could James Potter, whom I've barely even talked to and know next to nothing about, know so much about me when I didn't even know that much about myself? And how could it possibly sound so right when he tells me these things?

The crease between his eyebrows appears again and deepens as he looks at his feet. "You don't think that's creepy, do you?"

I ponder this for a while and finally decide to answer him truthfully.

"No," I tell him. "I find it mildly freaky that you know so much about me, but it's really kind of cute, in a strange, funny, James-Pottery sort of way."

* * *

**A/N:** How'd you like the fluff? Too much? Not enough? Should I add more fluff scenes? Did you like the chapter? Were there any scenes that could be improved upon? Please let me know in one of those lovely reviews. I've got Chapters 8 and 9 ready, folks.


	9. Chapter 8: Invitation and Argumentation

**A/N: **I give you Chapter 8! Sorry that I'm a bit late in updating today, guys. Anyway, I hope you like it! See you at the bottom... hopefully.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Invitation and Argumentation**

James and I walk into a nearly empty Great Hall the next day. Only a few students are eating toast at the tables or studying (probably for that Transfiguration test, which I should really be freaking out over right now) or, in Ted Abbott's case, sleeping with their faces in their porridge bowl. That's got to be uncomfortable, inhaling the porridge and suffocating and all.

"We're really early today," James remarks, his eyes sweeping over the Hall. You know, in the mornings, when warm sunlight is shining through the massive windows and reflecting off every polished surface, the gold flecks in his eyes seem to almost sparkle behind his glasses.

Not that I would watch James Potter's eyes.

"Yeah," I agree, "well, I don't know, really. I just felt more awake this morning, I guess, and everything ended up taking less time."

"In that case, I should have woken you up later," he says wistfully, sounding like he actually cares about how much sleep I get every night. As if he legitimately cares about me. "You needed the extra sleep; you slept at least an hour less because of patrol."

"What?" I say, still confused by this sudden show of consideration from the least considerate person in the world. "No, not at all. I actually like waking up at this time, now that I've tried it. It somehow makes me feel more awake."

He turns his eyes to me, trying to read my expression and figure out whether I'm serious or only trying to make him feel better.

Truthfully, though, I'm not. Trust me, the boy would know if I were upset with him. I regard it as my duty to let him experience the full extent of my wrath. He should know that better than anyone else by now, after around seven years of me screaming at him every time he annoyed me.

I honestly just find it sort of amusing and _nice_, for lack of a better word, to be around him. Patrol last night was actually enjoyable.

I must be slowly going insane.

A week ago, if you'd asked me if I thought I would ever _want_ to spend time with James Potter, I would have probably have abandoned my wand, resorted to the good old Muggle method of inflicting pain, and punched you in the nose.

So if I wind up in St. Mungo's by the time I graduate, don't be too surprised.

We sit down to breakfast, James heaping every food in sight onto his plate.

I slowly butter a slice of toast and place it neatly on my plate, making sure it's centered. I lean back to admire my breakfast.

Okay. I will admit that I am mildly abnormal at times. I have an obsession with objects being exactly centered. I don't like to have my food touching other food, and I have to make neat piles of every food when I'm eating. I also—

Never mind. You get the point.

"Lily," James interrupts my train of thought, his forkful of scrambled eggs paused halfway to his mouth. "You haven't even started eating yet, and you scarcely have any food on your plate. You need to eat. Are you feeling okay?"

"I _will_ eat," I protest, faintly annoyed that he's messing with my eating habits. No one, in my more-than-seventeen years of life, has ever successfully done so and gotten away alive. "I just have to organize my food first. It's just a thing I do."

"Lily," says James, with a trace of amusement in his voice, "you are so hopeless at times."

Oh, he's one to be talking.

"Come on," he continues, pulling my plate closer to him, and reaching for the scrambled eggs, "let me show you how to _really_ eat."

He piles a scoop of eggs onto my toast.

No, Lily. Don't worry. It's okay. It's just one tiny little baby scoop. It's not going to ruin your day. You'll live.

I can't help it, though. My hand creeps slowly toward my plate, itching to yank it back and get those wretched eggs off my precious toast.

But nothing ever escapes the notice of James Potter, greatest Hogwarts Chaser in a decade. He frowns a little. His gaze flickers to my eyes. "What?"

Well, now that it's out there and I've completely embarrassed myself yet again, there's no point in hiding anything else. "Er, nothing, really. It's just that I, er, usually keep my food separated," I mutter, refusing to meet his eyes.

When I finally look back up, the corners of his mouth are twitching slightly.

"Don't laugh," I say defensively.

"I'm not," he argues, but he bursts out laughing, not even bothering to hold it in. "At least, not directly at you."

"Hmph," I huff, pulling my plate back. Hopefully, he will be too distracted to—

"No," he insists, sliding it back toward him. "That just proves that it's imperative that I teach you how to eat properly, Lily."

Damn it.

I would definitely not say that his way of eating is proper, but he's already adding bacon on top of the scrambled eggs.

"Eat," he commands imperiously.

As if I've ever obeyed a direct order.

"I can't, and I won't," I tell him, just as imperiously. "I'm going to separate everything anyway, you know. You can do whatever you like to my breakfast. I still have the liberty to undo whatever you do. I don't _care_ how you tell me to eat it; it's _my_ choice, ultimately."

"Fine," he says, his eyes sparkling, the right side of his mouth quirking upward in a playful smirk, "I'm just going to have to feed you."

"_What?_" I yelp. "No way. Ugh, I'll eat it like that, I promise, all right?"

He picks up my knife and starts cutting—actually, more like _sawing_—the toast. "Nope, you missed your chance. You can't fool me, princess." He lifts up a piece of toast, eggs, and bacon to my mouth. "Open."

I keep my lips pressed together as tightly as possible. I'm sure I look ridiculous, like some red-headed imitation of Professor McGonagall when Sirius Black dropped a Dungbomb in her class last year, but if it will keep that bloody toast out of my mouth, it'll be worth it.

"_Mmm_," I stubbornly refuse, shaking my head vehemently.

"You have to eat," he persists. "And besides, this is practically a sandwich. It's not poisonous, you know. Come on. Just one bite."

I dare to slightly loosen my lips just a crack. "Absolutely not," I mumble out of the corner of my mouth.

But he gives me his puppy-dog look, those eyes of his magnified until I can practically see myself reflected in those pools of rich hazel.

I simply cannot say no to that look.

"Fine," I relent, "but just one bite."

"Okay," he says happily, "here goes."

He lifts his left hand to tilt my chin up. I shiver slightly at his touch, ripples of chills running down my back. My stomach flips and tenses up. He, not noticing anything, places the forkful of food inside my open mouth with his other hand.

"Well, well. Having fun, kids?"

James and I look up at the same time, only to find Sirius, Marlene, Dorcas, Alice, Remus, and Peter staring down at us.

Merlin's most baggy y-fronts. They _would_ totally pick the worst and most awkward of moments to walk in on us. I would be pulverizing them all, if my mouth wasn't full of toast, which is surprisingly good this way. I try to chew and swallow as quickly as possible, but it still isn't fast enough for Sirius Black.

"Hm. Lils, getting a bit _chummy_ with Ickle-Jamsie, eh?"

James's hand under my chin immediately drops to the table.

I finally finish my bite. "I don't appreciate your suggestive tone, Black," I say haughtily and (I hope) coolly.

He looks shocked. "Suggestive? Me? Never."

"Oh, Black, stop being so silly," I tell him, trying to convey to him through my tone that he is clearly mistaken and also that I will punish him most severely for this later, "and sit down. Good morning, girls, Remus, Peter."

"Morning, Lils," Remus replies, a slight grin on his face.

But the girls (and Peter) are too stunned to sit or reply or do anything, for that matter. They just stand there with their mouths slightly open, staring back and forth between James and me. They share a vague resemblance to goldfish, actually.

Dorcas is the first to snap out of it.

"Well, let's eat," she says. "Hurry up, girls, before it gets cold."

She's always been the sensible one.

I am saved from any more questions by the arrival of my owl, Calypso, swooping in through a window.

She has a fancy-looking letter tied onto her leg.

Wait. A fancy letter? This looks fishy… What if it's laced with anthrax? What if it's covered in Bubotuber pus? What if my hands are cooked raw on contact with the letter?

James leans over to me. "Lily, I know what you're thinking right now, but can I just point out that you're already holding the letter, and you seem to still be in one piece?"

Oh. Well, that's embarrassing.

I glance back down at the letter in my hand. It looks suspiciously like a wedding invitation…

I really hope Mum and Dad haven't decided to renew their wedding vows in celebration of their 25th anniversary or something, because those kinds of mushy, "romantic" events are really just not my thing. I manage to screw them up somehow every time.

I decide it's better to just get it over with. I slit open the letter and read the first line, and….

My brain explodes into a million incoherent thoughts.

How could—?

What—?

Why would—?

When did—?

Who?

"Lily?" Alice anxiously ventures.

"Are you feeling okay?" asks Dorcas tentatively.

"Gosh, Lils," says Marlene, frowning, "what's the matter? Who died?"

She snatches the letter from my loose grip.

I find that I am still capable of forming complete sentences.

"It's Petunia," I tell Alice and Dorcas, who are trying to read over Marlene's shoulder. "Tuney's getting married."

* * *

"Are you a bridesmaid?" asks Marlene, as she climbs into her sleeping bag on the floor of my dorm.

"No," I answer, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"_No_?" Alice bolts up from her sleeping bag.

"Oh, Lils," Dorcas says, finishing tying up her straight light brown hair in a boyish ponytail and crawling over to hug me, "I'm sorry."

I refuse to be upset over Petunia's choice. I'd known for a while that this was coming. There is absolutely nothing surprising or depressing about this. _Absolutely nothing._

"Yeah, thanks." I attempt to smile, hoping that it seems much more genuine to them than it feels to me. "I don't really care, anyway. I mean, it's Petunia. You know how she is; I've told you about her. Her wedding can't be that great either way. It's not like being her bridesmaid is—"

But then my voice quavers. I feel this horrible little tug in the pit of my stomach, and my insides suddenly contract. I squirm uncomfortably, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat and taking a deep breath, but I continue. "—is a huge honor or anything."

Marlene and Alice immediately slide out of their sleeping bags and join in our hug. We just sit there quietly for a while, our arms hung around each others shoulders.

"I love you guys," I say, undraping my arm around Alice and wiping away the wetness that suddenly blurs my vision.

Stupid hormones.

Marlene suddenly smiles. "Well, there is one thing we can do about it."

"What?"

"We can make you look awesome when you go to the wedding. Petunia will be jealous that none of her bridesmaids are that gorgeous."

Could anyone ask for better friends?

"When's the wedding?" asks Alice, twisting her wavy dark honey-blonde hair away from her neck distractedly. I've always been not-so-secretly jealous of that hair, even though it reminds me a bit of Petunia's. It's infinitely better than my _red_ hair, anyway. But then again, what isn't?

"It's in a month," I reply, "although Petunia's always wanted a summer wedding. I can't imagine why she'd want to change her mind all of a sudden."

"Well," Dorcas says consolingly, "that's good. We'll have quite a bit of time to get ready for it and all."

"Yeah," says Marlene contentedly, her eyes lighting up, making her look like a blue-eyed toddler who has recently been given her favorite kind of cookie. "We can go dress shopping next Hogsmeade weekend. I _love_ dress shopping."

"Love" is an outrageous understatement when it comes to Marlene and dresses.

"Oh, no," I groan. "Not you. I'm not going dress shopping with you, Mermie. Definitely not."

She pouts, her dark blue eyes beseeching me. "Why not?"

Dorcas saves me. "Because we all know that once you go into a dress shop, there's no getting you out."

"It will be okay, Lils," Alice reassures me. "We'll drag her out of there… eventually. She can kick and scream all she likes."

"You wouldn't do that to me," Marlene pleads piteously. "I'm your best friend."

I raise my eyebrows skeptically. "Three witches against one, sweetheart. Do the math. I'd say your chances aren't looking so good."

"Fine," she sighs theatrically. The rest of us roll our eyes: Marlene has always been our drama queen. "But I think we should pick out potential colors first, since we're going to have such _limited_ time in the shop." She glares at each of us in turn, sticking her chin out, her hands on her hips.

"That's a very attractive pose, Marlene," I remark sarcastically.

She pretends to ignore me, turning to Dorcas instead, but she can't help but grin and ruin her entire facade. Marlene was never one to hold grudges. "Yeah, Lils, I'm practicing for my future career in modeling. You should really take lessons from me. You could use some poise."

I pick up the nearest pillow and throw it at her. Too bad it happened not to be Dorcas'; Dorcas practically sleeps on rocks. She says it helps her neck relax after Quidditch practice, but the rest of us are convinced that she just likes to suffer.

Marlene laughs maniacally as the pillow hits her on the cheek. She is _so_weird. "But really, girls, shouldn't we pick out colors?"

"That's fine with me," Alice says, "if it's fine with Dorcas and Lils."

The poor sweet thing. Sometimes she's too nice for her own good. Like now, for instance.

"Good." Marlene springs up and claps her hands together excitedly. Nothing she's been this thrilled about has ever turned out well. "Now, since there's no color theme, which color would look best on her?'

"Green," replies Dorcas instantly. "I mean, her eyes are green."

"Forever the reasonable one," quips Alice. We all grin; it's completely true. "I vote purple."

"Purple?" Marlene asks, her eyebrows arched gracefully, a feat I could never accomplish. "Where did _that_come from?"

"Well, I don't really know, to be honest, but Lils pretty much _never _wears purple, and I thought it'd be nice for a change," explains Alice, who has always been a bit unsure of her taste in fashion, "although I'm definitely not an expert in dress colors."

"So," I say, before Marlene can respond, "do I get a say in the matter, since I _am_going to be the one wearing the dress and all that? Personally, I think light gold would be good. Purple seems a bit too rich for the occasion, and I wear far too much green on a regular basis."

"You know," adds Marlene thoughtfully, "you'd look good in brown, too."

"I feel like brown is too drab for a wedding," Dorcas objects.

"I second that," Alice adds.

"No, it's not," Marlene argues. "It completely depends on the _shade _of brown. Some browns can be lovely."

This naturally sets off a round of debate, which I don't really mind. It's sort of entertaining for all four of us to argue. We probably love each other more _because_we clash so much. Marlene's the silly one who keeps a touch of fun in our lives; Alice is the romantic, shy one who calms us down and offers support to all of us; and Dorcas is the levelheaded one who keeps us from getting out of hand.

Even with all of that, I wind up having to turn off the lights and threaten to use Silencing Charms on all three of them if they don't shut up. Otherwise, we'd probably be arguing until morning.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello again. I know that some of you have been saying that Lily and James's relationship is moving a bit fast, and I'm doing my best to slow it down. I've got something planned for the chapters ahead, so hopefully that will keep you on your toes. Please review! I simply adore all of you reviewers. I'll personally thank some of you in the next chapter, I promise :]


	10. Chapter 9: Stress and Relief

**A/N:** Hey, guys. I'm back again with a new chapter! Please check back in about half an hour if you reviewed Chapter 8, because I'm planning on editing this Author's Note to reply to your reviews last week. Hope you like this chapter, in the meantime.

* * *

**RR: **Okay, well, here goes my very first review responses (let's call them RRs for short, shall we?), and I hope that these will prove to you all that I do indeed read and cherish every single one of your replies:

_.com: _Oh, hello there :] I'm planning to keep writing this for a long, long time. As long as you guys still want to read it, that is, of course... But thank you for your support!

_OMG-Bannana: _Ahhh, thank you for your review! I'm glad you have something to look forward to- I'm excited for the wedding as well. And I'm even more glad to find that you like the speed of their relationship. Thanks again for your support!

_Pickle Potter:_ Thank you very much! I hope you like it enough to keep reading.

_HCB is 2 lazy 2 login: _Hahaha, thank you for your encouragement. I appreciate it deeply. Your inner Moony... that's a clever one, actually. I've never heard it before. :]

_poverina: _You are just simply amazing. I can't believe you still read this.

_Doctor Brittana Banana Who:_ That's quite a name, but I like it. Yes, he did!

_Inatardis:_ Well, well, what can I say to you? You're wonderful. So do I; I can't stop calling her Mermie in my head.

_Doctor Brittana Banana Who:_ I'm so happy to find that you're still reading.

_aamandawinss: _Oh, I'm so glad you like the fluff. It's always nice to know that someone out there appreciates it. That's funny, actually, I've been picturing the Heads' Rooms that way ever since I was eight, and we don't even actually know if they exist! But we must think alike or something... Yeah, I know, I'm going to do some serious editing over the summer. Personally, I feel more comfortable in this tone of writing, so I think I'm going to edit the first couple chapters so that the tone matches a bit more. I _do_ hope you find that the story is getting better, though!

_Thank you, also, to all those who have favorited and put this fanfiction on their alert list; I deeply appreciate your feedback and support._

* * *

**Chapter 9: Stress and Relief**

I walk into Transfiguration with a sense of foreboding in my stomach.

Actually, though, those could just be PMS cramps.

Either way, there's no denying that I'm terrified. McGonagall has decided that she needs to check up on her NEWT students' progress, and she thought the best way to do so would be to give us a practical quiz. She told us that she would be asking us to transfigure an object that would be different for each student.

I'm already having trouble with Transfiguration, and, quite simply, a Head Girl cannot afford to fail her classes. I stayed up until one o'clock last night, looking over my notes on every single spell we've ever learned. I was on beetle-into-button spells when I fell asleep, taking a nosedive into my open notebook.

I rub my nose thoughtfully. Still sort of sore.

McGonagall is sitting on her desk in Animagus form, as a cat. She's the reason I have a terrible fear of cats. It's mildly disturbing to think that the nice little cat you're petting could turn out to be your Transfiguration professor_ and _your Head of House, isn't it?

A desk in the front row is missing, probably hidden behind that black curtain obscuring a corner of the room.

Professor McGonagall leaps down from her desk, transfiguring into a strict-looking woman with stern dark brown eyes and a thin line for a mouth. I never quite got used to the shock.

"Today," she begins, her black robes swirling around her as she paces around her desk and nearly petrifies every student in the front row, "as you know, you will be tested on the amount of information you have retained since elementary Transfiguration."

I whimper. It sounds bad enough already.

"When I call your name, you will walk up here and go behind this curtain, where I will be waiting for you. Please do not bring anything but your wand. Inside, you will find a desk, on which will be an object. I will tell you the name of another object to Transfigure it into. You will perform the correct spell, and you will then leave when I inform you that your test is over. Please note that, first of all, the curtain has a sound-proofing spell cast on it; you will not be able to hear anything on the other side of the curtain. Secondly, everyone has a different Transfiguration to perform; there is absolutely no way for you to help each other."

I gulp. What _wouldn't_ give for a bit of help now?

_Lily! You're Head Girl. Be ashamed for thinking such thoughts._

"Thirdly, I expect all of those outside the curtain to be studying and practicing their spells. They are _not_ to be wasting their valuable class time." She looks around, her gaze resting on the Marauders in the far back corner of the room. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," we answer.

"Good. Get to work. Mr. Avery, please step up."

I turn to Marlene, who takes one glance at me and says, "Stop stressing. You'll be fine."

"No." I start to hyperventilate. "I can't remember the right spell for Transfiguring a mouse into a mushroom, and I don't remember how it's different from the one that involves a hamster and a hat. They're all getting confused now."

I frantically search through my notes and mutter spells under my breath to myself for the next fifteen minutes, trying to cram in as much as possible in the shortest time I had left.

"Ms. Evans," Professor McGonagall calls.

I rise from my seat, my mouth suddenly completely dry, wipe my sweaty hands on my robes, and walk unsteadily to the curtain. My hair, floating around my shoulders, tickles my neck, and I impatiently brush it away. I must have been pulling at it in my nervousness, tugging it out of the ponytail that I had put it in this morning.

When I finally reach the curtain and pull it back, McGonagall looks at me, and her expression softens. "Don't worry too much, Ms. Evans. I'm sure that you will do wonderfully. Please, take a seat." She waves a hand in the direction of the chair.

I'm not so sure of the same, I want to say.

Nevertheless, I manage to sit down on the edge of the chair, gripping the sides so hard my knuckles turn white.

McGonagall flicks her wand, and a frog appears in front of me. "Please, Ms. Evans, you will be turning this frog into a frozen ice cube."

I nearly stop breathing. What's the spell for that again—was it _Hydrosolidificus amphibianus_, or was it _Amphibisolidificus hydro_? Spells flutter across my brain, crossing each other and turning my head into a mess of heat and confusion.

"Ms. Evans?" Professor McGonagall says. "Are you all right?"

Merlin save me. "I'm all right, thank you, Professor," I tell her.

Well, it's a fifty-fifty shot, I decide. I point my wand at the frog.

"Ribbit," it croaks.

I screw my eyes up. "_Hydrosolidificus amphibainus_," I enunciate clearly, praying for a miracle.

When I open my eyes, for once in my life, the miracle actually occurs. Sitting in the frog's place is a very solid ice cube.

"Well," says McGonagall, "well done, Ms. Evans. Nothing to worry about at all. However, you might want to get some help and review sometimes, just to help you remember your spells correctly so that, by the time NEWTs roll around, you will be perfectly confident which spell to use."

I'm just thankful that I passed _that_ test. I thank her and exit.

However, by the time I reach my seat and Marlene asks how it went, I'm not feeling so pleased about that test. After all, I may have passed it, but it's also the first time I've ever been completely confused about something academic.

_What if it's not going to be the last time?_

* * *

By the end of this day, I am utterly worn out. I am lying in bed, all my homework and textbooks scattered around me, chocolate wrappers strewn across my sheets.

When Aurelia comes into my bedroom portrait to tell me that Marlene is waiting outside to ask to come in, I ask her to tell Marlene that I am too exhausted and that I have patrol tonight. As soon as Aurelia leaves to relay my message to Marlene, I sigh. I have so much to do and no motivation to do it.

Sometimes, I have days where everything is just a mess, and I just want to lie in bed and read a novel. It's not that anything particularly awful happened that day. It's not even that nothing good happened. Quite simply, I just feel that everything is weighing down on me, and I can't do anything about it. Today is one of those days.

Instead of doing my homework, as I probably should be, considering the amount I have, I roll onto my side and watch the sunset from my window.

Aurelia comes into the picture frame again to tell me that James is outside, waiting for me to come down to dinner. She tells me that he's worried and that he's asking what I want to eat, saying that he can get it for me and bring it to my room.

How he's going to get the food is a mystery, but I'm too wrapped up in misery to care.

"Please tell him that I won't need anything, but thank him anyway, Aurelia," I say. "I just don't feel well. Tell him that I'll meet him for patrol, though."

* * *

James and I walk down the fourth floor corridor slowly. So far, we've found no couples snogging their hearts (and brains) out in broom cupboards, and we've caught no students sneaking out of their beds illicitly. It must be a record.

"You didn't eat tonight," James says to me.

"I know."

"Are you hungry?" he asks. "We can go get some food now, if you are."

"No, thank you."

"If you don't feel well, you can go back to our dorm," he tells me concernedly as we reach a staircase. "I can handle patrol alone, you know. It's okay. Besides, you look pale and tired. Get some rest, Lily. Go ahead."

"I'm fine."

James turns to me, giving me a queer look.

I cringe a little under his gaze. "What?"

"Nothing," he replies. "You just seem awfully quiet today."

It's true.

But I'm not about to admit that to James freaking Potter. Who does he think he is, anyway, to tell me how often I can and can't talk? It's my life, and I have the freedom to speak or not to speak. He should really just deal with it.

I glare at him. "Has it ever crossed your tiny little ant-brain that maybe I don't want to talk? And if I did, I wouldn't choose to talk to you, anyway."

A look of pain flashes across his face, and I almost feel guilty for a second.

But then my PMS hormones kick back in.

"I know that, Lily," he backtracks, "I was just wondering if you're okay."

This drives me over the edge.

"You were wondering I'm _okay_? Of course I'm _okay_! And besides," I scream at him, my shouts echoing down the empty corridor, "when do you, Mr. I'm-So-Perfect Potter, ever _care _if I'm _okay_? It didn't occur to you to find out if I was _okay_ when you publicly asked me out fifty times a day. You didn't bother to figure out if I was _okay_ when you bullied Severus. You didn't care if stupid little Lily Evans was _okay_ when you embarrassed me in front of the school every _freaking MINUTE_!"

His eyes widen behind his glasses, making him look genuinely sorry, but, naturally, I tend to not care how sorry people look when I work myself into one of my Lily rages. "Look, Lily," he begins, "I've changed. I'm diff—"

"Oh!" I laugh hysterically. "You've _changed_! You're _different_! Tell me something I haven't heard before. If only you _changed_! As much as you may claim to have changed, you will always be arrogant"—I stamp my foot—"insufferable"—stamp—"James Potter!" I shove him with both hands, pushing with all my might, expecting him to slam against the wall.

But he doesn't. He doesn't even flinch. He just stands there, holding my wrists against his chest, looking down at me sadly.

I can't take it anymore. I crumple against him, and he winds up just holding me. And then the weight of everything—my hormones, my misery, my anger, my stress, my _life_, even—just hits me, and I start sobbing like a silly little girl into the front of James Potter's shirt.

Any normal guy would probably either:

A) stand there, motionless and confused.

B) peel me off of him, looking disgusted, and wring out his shirt.

C) tell me to go to the hospital wing.

D) do some combination of all three.

But who ever said that James Potter is remotely normal?

Instead of doing anything of the sort, he wraps his arms tighter around me, leaning his head on top of mine. "Shh, Lils, don't cry," he whispers into my hair. "I'm here."

Of course, his use of my pet name just makes me cry harder.

I'm sure his shirt must be sopping wet now.

Damn him. Whydoes he always have to be so perfectly nice to me?

"Lils," he murmurs again, "don't cry, please. You can tell me what's wrong."

I hiccup, burying my face deeper into his chest. "I—I don't even know. I just have so much to do. All of our teachers gave us so much homework, and I'm confusing my spells in Transfiguration—which has _never_ happened to me before—and I don't think I can finish and I can't afford to let my grades slip. I'm probably the worst Head Girl Hogwarts has ever had—I know I am, actually—and I just want to make my parents proud—"

Blast my overactive tear ducts.

"—and I'm a failure. And then there's my sister's wedding invitation that came this week and it was just the last straw. I mean, Petunia was always"—hiccup—"my best friend. We were so close, and now—now our relationship is so damaged that I thought she was just bragging and over-exaggerating all the times she talked about her future husband, whom I've never even met. I—"

Will I _ever_ stop crying? I'm such a pathetic human being.

James starts patting me gently on the back, which I should probably find creepy. Strangely, though, I find it comforting.

"—thought she just wanted attention, because it's one of the only things she_ is_ better than me at. For Merlin's sake, I don't even have a fucking boyfriend, and I'm only three years younger than Tuney, who's getting _married_ already. And not to mention the fact that she didn't even make me, her only sister, a bridesmaid. She probably only invited me because my parents insisted."

James quietly places his hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer into his chest. "Lily, first of all, about homework, I know it's a ton, and McGonagall _is_ teaching us a lot all at once. The only reason I'm passing that course is because the Marauders and I have had some, er, prior experience with the subject."

I tearfully glance up at him, intrigued. "Like what?"

"Just… experience," he repeats, looking guilty about something. "So, anyway, as I was saying, I know you're better than me at everything—"

"Not at Transfiguration," I interrupt, suddenly feeling charitable.

He grins cockily at me before continuing. "—so if you ever need help with anything, especially Transfiguration, I'm here." He pauses thoughtfully. "You know, we don't have anything to do this Saturday besides making plans for the Hogsmeade trips. If you feel that spending a day with me isn't a complete waste of your time, we could do some extra Transfiguration just for fun."

I simply cannot force myself to reject that offer. "You're not a waste of time, and I… I'd love to. I think it'd help me a lot."

He hugs me again, awkwardly. "And, Lils, if my opinion counts for anything, I think you're the best Head Girl Hogwarts has ever had the honor of having. I know Dumbledore thinks so too. You're, by far, the best role model the students could ask for. I don't even think it's possible for you to be bad at anything. I've never met your parents, but if they're at all normal, they probably can't even express to you how proud they are."

I give him a watery smile.

"As for your sister," he continues, "I'm sure she still loves you, deep inside. I don't understand how anyone who has met you couldn't love you, actually. You're the best person I've ever met, and the reason you don't have a boyfriend right now isn't that you're not good enough for them, but that none of them are even vaguely close enough to deserve you."

"Wait," I say, turning my face, burying it in his water-logged shirt, "I forgot. There's more: there's you. You. You are so bloody _nice_ to me, even when I'm a complete bitch—"

"Lily," James cuts in, "don't call yourself that."

"—to you. You know, I don't even remember why I was so mad at you. I don't even think I was actually mad at _you_; you didn't say or do anything wrong. I was just frustrated with everything, and you happened to be the only person around. I'm just so used to hating you that I was annoyed for no apparent reason. I mean, don't you see what a horrible person I am?"

"No," he frowns.

But I don't get sidetracked that easily.

"I can't even control my temper, and I said all those horrible things to you, none of which I meant, really, and then I cried on you and ruined your shirt, when I should actually be on my knees right now begging for your forgiveness. I'm such a mess, and I should have been sorry that I'm making you deal with all this, but I didn't even apologize to you."

"You didn't have to apologize to me for anything," James interjects.

I ignore him. I'm rather good at that.

"I shoved you, and you didn't even do or say anything back. You're always so perfect to me, and it'd be so much easier if you were terrible and easy to hate, but you're _not_! It makes life so much more complicated, and, look, now I'm mad at you for being so _damn_ good all the time. Don't you see how awful I am?"

Which just sets off another stream of tears.

But James doesn't suddenly experience an epiphany and realize how terrible I am.

He just chuckles, his laughter rumbling against my cheek. "No, I don't. In fact, I'm glad. This is what makes you human." He checks his watch. "Patrol is almost over, and you need to sleep. Come on, let's go back to our dorm."

I pull away a little, and he helps me stand straight, as he says, "Don't worry about your homework; we can do that together tomorrow morning. We'll get it done, I promise."

I sniffle. "I hope so."

He produces a tissue for me, one arm still around me. "Oh, and one more thing, Lils," he says as he hands it to me.

"Yeah?"

"Don't apologize for anything. You don't need to. We're friends, aren't we? This is what friends are for, after all."

Well, James Potter, as nice as you may be (occasionally) and as weepy as I may be at this moment, I wouldn't go so far as to call you a _friend_.

But I'm learning to control my temper.

Instead, I just sniffle again.

He can take that any way he wants.

* * *

When I am finally lying in bed that night, the whole depressing reality of my life right now crashes down on me at last.

All I can think about is how I have definitely sunk to the dregs of humanity. For heaven's sake, I just cried on _James Potter_, whom I have hated more than anyone else in the world for about, oh, seven years, give or take a few months, not to mention the mildly troubling fact that he now knows more of my secrets than Marlene, my best friend, does. Dear Merlin, how low must I have sunk to seek comfort from my worst enemy?

I don't even know how I'm going to live with the shame.

* * *

**A/N: **How was it? Is the story getting better or worse? (I certainly hope it's getting better, anyway...) Also, do you like the review responses, or are they just annoying? Should I continue with them? Please let me know.

And I'm begging you to review! Reviews are life, oxygen, water, _food_. And I can't tell you how much I love food. Okay, I'm getting off-topic now, but please do review! I appreciate it a ton. Lots of love to you all!

P.S. I'm taking APs this week, so to all you AP test takers this year, I wish you the very best of luck!


	11. Chapter 10: Charm and Charms

**A/N:** Hello again! It's good to see you back. My AP went quite well, and I'm convinced it was you all that brought me the good luck. I hope all of you did well on yours as well. I've been experiencing serious writer's block these couple of weeks, to be honest with you. So I'm only beginning Chapter 13, when I should be working on Chapter 14 already. It's quite sad. But it's all right, because I have Chapter 10 for you! This chapter is going to pretty fluffy, I think. Hopefully you like it. See you at the bottom!

* * *

**RR:**

_thefirstchapter_: Ah, this is such a delightful compliment! Thank you so much. I really, really appreciate it. I hope you found the rest of the fanfiction bearable as well.

_PenonPaperFingersonKeys (a.k.a. mrsjamespotter): _Your reviews (plural!) were just wonderful, as both you and your tumblr are. I find James Potter amazingly attractive and dreamy as well, if I may say so myself. I'm also so glad you appreciate that Lily and James seem a bit different than in other fanfictions—I was trying for that effect, but I'm not very sure whether it was successful or not…. As for food, I have to say that it is my life. Literally. Literally literally, too…. I hope you keep reading!

_Doctor Brittana Banana Who:_ Well, I'm glad you liked it! With respect to her friends, I just adore Marlene and Alice and Dorcas, truly. The truth is that I don't really work well with OCs—I have too many issues naming them, which is something you will soon realize, unfortunately. We don't _know_ for sure that the girls are Lily's original friends, but I'd certainly like to think so, and I'm happy you agree!

_shortiegirl:_ Thank you for the lovely compliment! But I just can't get enough of you guys, you know? I want more! :]

_Kaiyan: _That's always one of the best things, in my humble opinion, that a Lily/ James fanfiction author can be told—it's such an honor to inspire someone to love L/J more! Thank you for your review, and I hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations. Be sure to let me know, please!

_bookworm527: _Thank you very much! Haha, really? Your brother does that too? Actually, I must confess that Lily's obsession stems from my own—I hate it when my food is all mixed up. I think it tastes weird. Wow, that's quite a bit of standardized testing! I certainly hope you and all the people you mentioned did well on them.

_mugglenomore: _Thank you so much! I'm positively overjoyed that you like James—I quite like him myself. Thanks again for your encouragement. I'll make sure to keep posting as long as you guys want to read what I write!

_Thanks, as always, to all those lovely people who have favorited this story and/ or added it to their alert list. Your support means the world to me._

* * *

**Chapter 10: Charm and Charms**

I sit alone in the Heads' Common Room, scratching the side of my nose with my quill and staring out the beautifully large and clear windows at the gorgeous blue sky outside, instead of working on the Transfiguration essay in front of me as I should be. I _so_ do not want to be inside right now, doing homework and waiting to embarrass myself in front of James Potter, my new so-called "_friend_". I'd much rather be outside, lying on the cool, dark green grass and watching the clouds. I can practically smell the fresh fragrance of grass, mingled with the crisp scent of late September air. Maybe I'll go outside later, after I finish my homew—

"Hey, Lils, sorry that I'm late. First Quidditch practice of the year, you know," James's voice interrupts my reverie as he plops down into the chair across from me in our Heads Dorm, breathless, sounding suspiciously as if he ran all the way from the Quidditch pitch. He shrugs his book bag off his shoulder and tosses it carelessly onto the carpeted floor. A bottle of ink and a few quills roll out, and, with a groan, he bends over while still sitting in his chair to pick them up.

No, Lily, you were not just admiring his flexibility.

"Hey, don't worry about it," I greet him, tucking my Transfiguration essay inside my textbook with a little sigh. I make a mental note to ask James to clarify a question about the page I was reading. Bloody wandwork. Far too confusing. "So, our first official Heads meeting, huh?"

"Yeah," he answers, "I jotted down a few notes about what to talk about today. Do you want to see?"

Oh, Merlin. If James Potter is becoming more organized than me, I _really_ need to step it up.

I laugh nervously. "Sure, but I didn't write any notes or do any brainstorming, just so you know."

"You don't need to," he reassures me cheerfully, rummaging in his bag and pulling out a carefully folded sheet of parchment. "See, I just wrote a few things down whenever I thought of them. It's nothing formal. I just thought I'd forget if I didn't write them down."

"Oh, well, still," I say, determined to whip myself into a better Head Girl, "I should have done the same. I didn't think of doing this, but this is a good idea. I forget things easily, too."

He smiles happily. "I'm just glad you don't think it's stupid."

"Of course it's not," I tell him, pulling the parchment across the desk closer to me. "Let's see… First, you wanted to talk about Hogsmeade weekends, right?"

"Yep," he says, twirling his quill, "We still have to plan all the dates. I was thinking that we should have one every month or so, which is a bit more frequent than they were last year, but I sort of like the idea of having a weekend every month that people can leave the school and do something else to get their minds off things. I think it'd lower our school stress level."

"I have to agree, actually," I admit. "I mean, people don't _have_ to go if they don't want to, so I don't see the harm in having a few more. Dumbledore planned the first one for this Saturday, as a welcome-back sort of treat. Should we just make them all the second week of every month, and then reschedule some of them to fit with holidays, like Valentine's Day?"

"That's good for me," James says, grinning. "Shall we move on to the Halloween feast, my lady?"

I smile back. "Yes. I _do_ have an idea for that. I was thinking that we should have a party, instead of a sit-down feast. We could have some music and decorations and stuff. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, but I thought something like that would be a nice change for everyone."

"I like the sound of that," he replies, writing it down on his parchment.

The strange thing is that when James compliments or agrees with my ideas, somehow, it feels more sincere than when other people do. I'll have to ponder that later.

"What music were you thinking of?" he asks abruptly, looking up at me with his quill poised over his paper.

"I was thinking of getting Hera and the Hags," I answer. "I think their slow music would be appropriate for this party; there's nothing scandalous in their lyrics or anything."

"Actually," says James, running a hand subconsciously through his hair. You know, it's sort of cute in an annoying way when he does that, at least when he's not being all a stuck-up, arrogant show-off. Not that _he_'s cute. _He_'ll always be a prat. "I was thinking that faster music might be better, I mean, keeping people's spirits high and all."

Blood immediately rushes to my cheeks.

See? Point proven. He's _such_ a prat. And the nerve of him, too! No one disagrees with _the_ Lily Evans.

Only joking.

But not really.

"Well," I counter loftily, trying to seem as if his opinion is of no worth to me whatsoever, "I would like to _respectfully_ defend my position. We agreed that this would be a dinner party, right? We're going to have tables of food along the walls of the Great Hall, and we'll have some band up front. People are going to be carrying around food on plates, and they'll be socializing or dancing in the middle of the Hall. Fast music gets people too excited, and honestly, just imagine Sirius Black prancing around to fast music while simultaneously carrying two plates of food, one of which his face will be buried in. He could seriously injure innocent bystanders. Not a pretty picture. It's not a dance party, James. It's a dinner party, and dinner comes first."

He considers this seriously for a minute. "I still think fast songs are more fun, but you have a point too, especially with regards to the Sirius point. We can go with slow songs if that's what you would like."

To be honest, I don't _really_ like slow songs that much. I only insisted because I wanted to either force James to agree with me or force him to give me a reason to be angry with him.

Me? Manipulative? Never.

But he doesn't grant me either of the above. Damn you, James Potter, damn you.

"I'll add a few fast songs in," I conclude, feeling guilty for starting an argument and being so mean to him. He doesn't _really _deserve it. "For you."

He chuckles. "Thanks, princess."

We spend the rest of our time discussing the Winter Ball, which we both think should be a formal occasion. We make a few flyers for the Ball and decide to put them up together in every tower tomorrow night.

I never thought I could be so productive.

* * *

After we finish posting all the Hogsmeade schedules and the flyers for the Winter Ball, I walk with James down the long spiral staircase from Hufflepuff Tower. He seems terribly awkward today, not at all like his normal self. He keeps glancing at me secretly, as if he knows something and is too terrified to tell me.

I'm not _that_ intimidating, am I?

Finally, I can't stand it. "What's the matter?" I demand.

He looks taken aback, his eyebrows lifted above his glasses and disappearing behind his hair. "Nothing," he says. "Why?"

"I— You— Never mind," I mutter. "Is something going on that I should know about? You look like you're hiding something from me. Just tell me already."

"Oh," he says, lowering his gaze to stare fixedly at the ground, his cheeks flushing with color, "no. I'm not hiding anything from you. Don't worry. I would never do that to you, Lily, if it would hurt you. I thought you knew that."

"Well, then, what is it?" I ask, determined to weasel this out of him. We stop in front of our portrait hole, an oil painting of a little girl who is leaning her head on her arms, which are crossed and resting on the bottom part of her picture frame. "Hi, Aurelia."

"Hi, guys. Password?" Aurelia asks sleepily, lifting her head a bit to acknowledge us.

"Hogwarts's pudding," I say. "How are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. A bit tired, though. If you guys are going to bed and no one else is coming tonight, I think I'll rest for a while," Aurelia declares with a yawn. She stretches her petite arms above her golden hair—oh, how envious I am of that hair!—and rubs her eyes.

"Go to sleep, Aurelia, dear," I tell her.

"Yeah," adds James, "you've been working so hard for us, letting people in and all. We're going to go to bed, and you should, too."

She smiles sweetly, like the little angel she is. "Okay. Thanks, Lily and James. Good night." She straightens up and swings forward, and we climb through the portrait hole.

I round on James as soon as we enter the Common Room. "What were you going to tell me?"

He looks flustered, prodding the carpet with his toes. "I wasn't going to tell you anything," he mumbles. "Not technically, anyway."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, bewildered. One of us must be going insane: either I'm seeing things, or he's acting especially strange. I've never seen him like this before. "I'm here for you. Come on. Talk to me, James. I want to know."

"I—I…" he stammers playing with the sleeve of his robes. His cheeks turn pink again. "."

"What?"

He takes a deep breath. "I was going to ask you if you… if needed help with Transfiguration. We could have a review day or something. Quidditch practices don't start until next week, so I could stay with you on Sunday afternoon to work on some Transfiguration." He looks up at me worriedly. "If you want, that is. If you feel like it would help."

James Potter, Mr. Calm-and-collected, finding it difficult to ask me _that_? He must think I'm some species of female dragon. This whole situation is just too funny. I burst out laughing.

Probably not the most sensitive move of my life.

"Don't laugh," James says, even redder now. "You could just say no, you kn—oh, never mind. I'm going to bed." He turns and walks toward the staircase near his room.

"No," I wheeze, running after him. "No." I reach out and touch his forearm lightly. He spins around, surprised. "I'd like to. I was going to ask you to help me with the wandwork for the spells we're learning anyway."

"Oh," he says, sounding utterly confused by the intricacies of female behavior, "then what were you laughing for?"

"I—not at you. I wasn't laughing at you."

His ears turn pink with either embarrassment, pleasure, or some mix of both. "Oh," he says again, beaming, "good. I thought you were, for a second, and I'm just glad that you're not, and I have no idea what I'm trying to say right now."

I laugh. "Next time, don't be afraid to ask. It's nice of you to offer me that." I yawn, and then I remember it's not ladylike to yawn in public, so I reach up to cover my mouth. "I'm really tired, and I want to go to bed. Good night, James."

"Good night, Lily."

* * *

"HE ASKED YOU TO SPEND AN AFTERNOON WITH HIM?" screams Marlene, jumping up from the floor and strewing homework all over my room. Thanks a lot, Mermie. My room was messy enough already, with pillows thrown everywhere haphazardly and tubes of makeup cluttering my vanity dresser.

I leap up and clamp my hand over her mouth, and I glance nervously out the window to where James Potter is flying around above the Quidditch pitch on his broomstick. I take a moment to secretly admire how natural he looks when he's flying.

I haven't even told them about the time I cried on James during patrol. If _this_ is already a big deal, telling them about _that_... _Oh, by the way, girls, I forgot to mention that I yelled at James Potter during patrol, and then I cried on his shirt. And then we had a nice little venting session where I told him all my feelings that I've never even told you guys. And after that, he gave me a tissue. _Yeah, the girls will take _that_ really well.

"Shh, Marlene," I plead, dragging her back down. "Really, it's not a big deal. Stop freaking out."

"Yeah, Mermie," Dorcas says, laughing, "Lily's never going to tell us how it happened unless you shut up, right, Lils?"

Way to throw me under the bus, Dorc.

"Right," I promise desperately, keeping Marlene's head under my arm with my hand firmly over her mouth and praying that it takes Marlene a while before she figures out that she could easily force me to let go just by biting my hand, "but you have to swear to remain quiet the entire time, okay?"

She nods, and I let go.

She massages her neck gingerly, pouting. "Ow, Lily," she says accusingly. "That hurt."

"I think it was supposed to, Marlene," Alice informs her kindly. "Spill, Lily."

I glare at the three nosy busybodies. "Ugh, fine. I told you it wasn't a big deal, but since you're all so fascinated by my life, I can tell you that nothing happened. James just offered to help me with Transfiguration on Sunday; that's all."

"But that's so romantic," sighs Marlene.

I look at my best friend disgustedly. "How is that even remotely romantic? Were you even listening? _He asked if I wanted help with Transfiguration._ It's not a date or anything. Besides, if you think it's so romantic, you can go instead. I'll find another tutor."

Marlene looks at me as if _I'm_ the unreasonable one. "Lily," she says, "don't be silly. Of course I can't go. You two belong together."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," mutters Dorcas under her breath. Good thing I spared some of my look of disgust for her, too.

Merlin. My friends have issues.

"Well, sorry to burst all your bubbles and whatnot, but it happens that James Potter isn't in love with me anymore," I tell them.

"Lily," Alice says, "actually, he is."

"Yeah," adds Dorcas, "it's not like you have evidence."

I smile wickedly. I was so prepared for this one. "Oh, yes, Dorcas, I do," I cackle triumphantly. "My evidence is that he hasn't asked me out for _ninety-six_ days." I smile, satisfied in proving them all wrong.

"Oh my God, Lily, I didn't know that you kept track of how long he goes without asking you out! That's so cute. You totally have a crush on him," Marlene says matter-of-factly, clasping her hands together in apparent rapture.

I screw my eyes shut in frustration and rage, and I bury my face momentarily deep into the soft, comforting, peaceful coolness of my pillow. "_Aaaaaaaargh_. You guys are completely missing the point. The point was that we don't like each other, okay? And I'd like to not spend our entire seventh year discussing James Potter, if you please. I still have a Potions essay to write, you know, and you all have work to do, too."

I pick up my quill and unscrew my bottle of ink again, ready to continue writing. I glance up, and I find the three of them exchanging a silent conversation that probably goes something like this:

_Ohmigod, Lily is so hormonal right now._

_Yeah, I know. It's probably her time of month._

(Thanks, guys…)

_She definitely has a crush on him, though._

_Yeah, totally. And he's completely in love with her._

_Obviously._

(Alice, you're one to talk; you're _totally_ in love with Frank Longbottom _and_ denying it, too.)

_Okay, now she's watching us, so we should probably stop communicating. Awkward._

_Good idea._

_Okay._

Most people would probably find something like this mildly insulting, but I find it amusing. We've known each other for so long that I know that they'd say the same exact things to my face. To me, there's a difference between talking behind my back and not wanting to annoy me further by saying things out loud.

I just roll my eyes and flop back onto my belly, smiling a little to myself.

* * *

I've always thought that the way Professor Flitwick squeaks when he gets excited is adorable.

He's definitely excited today. If the pitch of his voice could get any higher, I'd have to bewitch bats to translate for me. "My dear children," he squeaks while climbing onto his usual stack of books, "quiet down, please. We have a busy day ahead."

Our class immediately quiets down. We Gryffindors love Flitwick. There has never been a boring Charms class with him teaching. The Ravenclaws, who are sitting on the other side of the room, love him just as much; he _is_ their Head of House, after all.

"Ah, lovely morning to practice some of our newest spells," Flitwick proclaims, "isn't it? All right, you will need to pair up with a partner to practice them on a beetle that I will place on your desk. Sirius Black with Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin with Dorcas Meadowes..."

I catch Remus passing a hand over his eyes, probably relieved at not having to work with Peter again. Lily Evans sees all.

"… James Potter with Lily Evans, Adam Turpin with Priyanka Patil…"

I turn around in my seat, and my eyes meet James's. He grins at me happily and stands up, grabbing his book bag. He saunters over to me, and when he reaches my desk, his voice half joking, he says, "So sorry, Lily, that you ended up with such an incompetent partner."

I can't help but smile. "_I'm_ sorry that I ended up with such an incompetent partner for the whole year."

He slides into the chair next to me. "_Hey_," he protests, but his eyes are dancing behind his glasses.

He's sitting awfully close to me, and I can feel his warmth radiating from his body. He watches me, his lips curved into a teasing smile. Again, I notice his eyes, and I'm temporarily hypnotized by the shimmery gold and deep blue flecks engulfed in a sea of hazel. My eyes gradually drift down to the soft little dimple on his left cheek, and suddenly I have a sudden urge to lean in and kiss it, threading my hands into that head of delightfully silky black hair.

Oh my God, Lily. You did not just think that.

Blergh. Even the thought of that is contaminating. I'm going to have to sanitize my mouth later. It wouldn't hurt to clean out my brain, too.

I'm just feeling a little bit odd today, that's all, right? I probably ate something weird at breakfast. I _did _think that oatmeal looked a bit suspicious.

I tear my eyes away from James's, and he visibly flinches, just as Flitwick levitates a beetle onto our desk. "There you go, Mr. Potter, Ms. Evans. Practice away, my dears."

I manage to smile feebly at Flitwick. "Thank you, Professor."

"You are quite welcome, Ms. Evans," he answers as he beams at me.

When I turn back to James, he's still watching me. "Forever everyone's favorite," he says with another nonchalant grin, but, strangely, his voice sounds slightly wistful and a bit strained.

I have no idea what that was supposed to mean or how to respond, so I use my favorite (and most commonly used) line. "Uh, okay…?" And then I realize that sounded really stupid, as it always does (not that that prevents me from using it), so I change the topic. "Ready?" I ask.

I'm such an awkward child.

"Yeah," he replies, glancing at the beetle. "What spell are we supposed to be doing?"

"Oh, I don't really know," I confess, "but I would assume they're the ones written on the blackboard." I gesture vaguely toward the front of the room. "First, we start off easy with _Wingardium leviosa_. You try first, James."

"Oh, bugger," he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I never was much good at that." He rolls up the sleeves of his robes and points his wand at the beetle. "_Wingardium leviosa._"

The beetle rises a few inches off and then plops decidedly back onto the desk. It rolls onto its back and gives James what I interpret as a withering glare. It's a good thing beetles can't do magic; otherwise, James would probably be turned into green slime mold by now. "Sorry," James groans. "I told you I wasn't good with that spell."

I laugh. "That's why we're working on it. Here, you want to move your wand like this." I swish my wand, demonstrating for him.

He copies my movement, realizing his issue quickly. He's a fast learner; no wonder all the teachers think he's so talented. I watch him quietly as he practices the wand movement gracefully, his exposed forearm muscles flexing and relaxing in a soothing rhythm.

You know, if muscles could be sexy, James Potter's forearm muscles would be. Quidditch does have some benefits, apparently.

The same does not go for the rest of his body, okay?

He looks up, and my eyes jerk back up to his face. I feel heat flood my cheeks, and he smirks. Thankfully, though, this time, he knows enough to keep his trap shut, which is not something James Potter has ever been known for before.

I clear my throat. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Hold on," he says, and he promptly levitates the beetle into the air, making it zoom across the room and hit Sirius on the cheek, just as Sirius leans toward Marlene to whisper something in her ear. (Can I just reinforce my point that they are _totally _and _obviously_ in love?) Marlene giggles hysterically as Sirius leaps away from her and slaps his own cheek in an attempt to get the beetle off. In fact, his hand connects with his cheek with such force that it leaves a pink mark.

"Quick," murmurs James urgently, "turn around!"

We pretend to be engaged in our work when James yelps. "Ow!" He bends over, rubbing the back of his neck, and picks up a sharp little ball of crinkled parchment from the ground, where it presumably fell after hitting James. He unfolds it and reads: "I'll get you back for that, you lovebirds." In the middle, we find our very disgruntled beetle.

James turns around and winks roguishly at Sirius.

They are simply impossible.

After a few more beetle battles between the two of them, James says tentatively, "Lily?"

"Hmm?" I ask absentmindedly, making use of the time and James's distraction to mentally go over the subtle differences in wand movement for Hovering Charms and Summoning Charms.

"It's nothing serious or anything like that, but I was going to tell you—I have Quidditch practice tonight. Normally, we'd finish before it's time for patrol, but you know, with the big game against Ravenclaw next Saturday and all, we're going to be practicing a bit more. Is it okay if I'm fifteen minutes late for patrol? I promise it won't happen often. Is that all right with you?" He sounds endearingly uneasy, unsure of how I will react.

Silly boy. I don't bite. (Often.)

"Of course it's all right. I want Gryffindor to win over Ravenclaw just as much as you do. Besides, I really don't think it's going to be a huge problem if we're a few minutes late for patrol. I'll wait for you; I have to do some homework, too," I tell him.

I watch his dimple deepen as he smiles. "Okay, thanks, Lils."

* * *

**A/N: **So, how'd that go, guys? How was the fluff? Did you like it? Please do a huge favor to me and leave a review. I love reading your feedback. Keep in mind that next chapter—Chapter 11—is going to be the big chapter! Are you as excited as I am?

These chapters just keep getting longer! I think Chapter 11, without Author's Notes and Reader Responses, is already around 4500 words. So far, Chapter 12, which I just finished, is ever longer, over 5100 words! That's pretty long for an amateur writer like me, you know!

Well, I'll see you (hopefully) when you review, and again in THREE weeks for Chapter 11. I like to update on Fridays, and I have a national math competition to attend, so I sadly cannot update on June 3rd.

Thank you all!


	12. Chapter 11: Crashing Down

**A/N: **All right, gentlemen and ladies and children of all ages, here's the big chapter… I hope it's good enough for your tastes!

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**RR:**

_OMG-Bannana_: I'm so glad you liked it! Thank you for your review.

_bookworm527_ : Aww, thank you so much for the gracious compliment! I'm so happy you liked the fluff, and I hope you found that there _is _a bit of plot throughout. We did well at our competition, actually; thank you for your support. I think that is a wonderful goal to have, and I also think that you will definitely be able to achieve it. Thanks for your much-appreciated feedback.

_Mary_: I am very sorry and disappointed to hear that you didn't really like this story… But to answer your question about the lack of plot: I'm thinking of taking this story all the way to James and Lily's deaths, as a narrative to celebrate the little things that happened in my version of their life. (Because that's what life is, in my humble opinion: a collection of memories and experiences—some painful, some bitter, some sweet, some poignant.) Also, not all of the events in the Prologue happened in Seventh Year, if that would make you feel a bit better about this story being "too sweet for Seventh Year". There are events mentioned that happen later on, after James and Lily's marriage.

_Anon_: Ah, this review made me so happy; to think that _this_ is the first fanfiction you've ever liked! It's such an honor. Thank you so much.

_Mugglenomore_: Aww, thank _you_ for reading and taking the time to review again! Me too, Sirius and James are just delightful. Thanks again for your encouragement.

_Reader_: I hope Chapter 11 lives up to your expectations! Thank you so much; it's people like you who keep me writing.

_Narnia_: Thank you also! I'm so delighted that you like it. Again, as I said to the previous reviewer, I hope this story continues to live up to your expectations!

* * *

**Chapter 11: Crashing Down**

Usually, before patrol, James waits for me in our Common Room. But today, with his late Quidditch practice and all, is the first time I do the same for him.

I sigh and push my Potions book onto the cushion next to me. I need a break from all this studying. Worn out, I tilt my head back, letting it fall and rest on the back of my favorite armchair, and close my eyes. Waiting isn't so easy, you know, for an impatient witch like me, considering I'm usually the one being waited for. I'll have to thank James when he gets out of the shower for being so uncomplaining every time I take longer than I should have to come downstairs for patrol.

It's so nice and warm in here, and my thoughts taper off and drift away slowly. My limbs feel heavy, and I slowly sink deeper and deeper into the comfort of my armchair….

And then I hear Sirius Black's voice outside in the hallway, probably talking to Aurelia.

I groan. Bugger. Leave it to him to disturb my every moment of peace.

It takes every ounce of energy I have left to push myself off the armchair and walk to the door. Pulling it open, I hear Aurelia say, "James is in the shower, and Lily's asleep. Do you want to leave a message for them? I can tell them before they leave for patrol."

"Nah," says Sirius, flicking his long dark hair out of his gray eyes, "I forgot they had to patrol tonight. I'll come back later. It's not terribly urgent, anyway. Thanks, though." He flashes his famously swoon-worthy grin at her and turns, striding away,

"Black," I call, stepping outside the door. He twists around, his face changing comically from an expression of shock to one of confusion as he registers my appearance. "I just woke up, but James is still in the bathroom. You can come in and tell James what you want when he gets out of the shower, if you'd like."

"Oh," he says, clearly still flustered (which I take immense pleasure in), "er, okay. Yeah, sure, thanks." He follows me inside the Common Room obediently, and I direct him to a couch. He sinks into its cushions with a heavy sigh, as I sit back onto my armchair.

"What'd you come to tell James?" I ask, trying to hide my curiosity at why Sirius Black, of all people, is suddenly so—for lack of a better word—serious. "Is it anything terribly urgent?"

"No," Sirius answers. "I just wanted to ask if I could sleep on the floor of his dorm tonight." His hands fidget in his lap, and he stares down at them, apparently lost in thought.

"Sirius?" I say, worried. Sirius Black never behaves like this.. He glances up at me, as if noticing my presence for the first time. "Is anything wrong?"

He sighs again, and he looks everywhere but at me. His eyes rake over the ceiling, the walls, the fire, my books, the curtains, everything, before they finally snap back to me. He seems to make up his mind, and, clearing his throat decidedly, he says, "Yes. It's Regulus. He's getting so obsessed with this Death Eater thing, and I think he's even one of them now. I…I met him in the library, and he wouldn't look at me. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen, and when I reached out to touch his arm, he yanked it away." Sirius's voice breaks, and my heart breaks along with it. "Reg— Regulus doesn't know what he's getting into. He doesn't know, or he won't accept, how dangerous it is." He turns his face away and covers it momentarily with his hands.

I can probably understand how he feels right now better than most people could. I think of Petunia and how there's so much bitterness and jealousy between us. How we compete ceaselessly for our parents' approval and affection. I remember how often we argue and fight and complain about each other. But ultimately, she's my sister, and although I don't know if she feels the same way about me, I wouldn't ever want her to be hurt.

I rise from my chair and sit next to Sirius, who is now hunched over with his head in his hands. I pat him awkwardly on the shoulder. "I don't really know what to say to you right now, Sirius," I begin, "but I _can_ tell you that I understand. It's the same way between me and Petunia. I can't give you any particularly useful advice, but you're a great brother to him, to care so much even when he's not listening. And if he's anything like you at all, he'll come around someday, I promise." We hear the door of the bathroom open, and I give Sirius's back another pat. "You can come talk to me, Sirius, whenever you'd like. I'd be more than happy to listen."

He lifts his head and offers me a nearly imperceptible grin, mingled with a new sort of… respect? "Thanks, Lily. I will."

James's voice calls down to us from the balcony. "Lily? Is that Sirius?"

"Yeah," I tell him, "he wants to talk to you. Hurry up and come downstairs."

But before I even finish saying it, James has already bolted down the stairs and is by Sirius's side in an instant. "What's wrong?" he asks anxiously, the crease between his eyebrows appearing again. "You weren't at Quidditch practice today. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay," Sirius says, standing up. "It's just Regulus, and I was wondering if I could—"

James understands immediately. "Of course you can. Grab your stuff from your dorm and do whatever you need. You know where my room and the bathroom are. Lily and I need to patrol, but we'll be back in an hour and a half or so."

"James," I interrupt, "you don't have to patrol—"

"No," he says resolutely. "I'm not leaving you in the hallways alone that late at night. Not that anything would happen, but I just don't feel okay at all leaving you there. Sirius doesn't mind. Don't worry about it." He looks at Sirius, who nods fervently.

"But—," I protest again.

"Come on, Lily, let's go," James says firmly. He pulls Sirius into a funny little bear hug and claps him on the shoulder. Then he turns back to me and touches my elbow lightly, indicating that we should go. I give Sirius an apologetic smile, and he shakes his head as if to tell me that it's okay.

Boys are so weird sometimes.

* * *

"James," I start again, as we stride down the fourth floor corridor, "really, Sirius is more important. You shouldn't be patrolling with me right now; he needs you more. He comes first; go back to him. I'll be fine on my own. It's just patrol."

"Lily." He frowns, and he looks more serious than I've ever seen him. "No. I'm not leaving you. Sirius's problem just reminded me that the Death Eaters are getting stronger and stronger, and they're _inside_ the school. Nowhere is safe right now, and there's no way in _hell_ I'd let you wander the corridors at night alone."

How can a boy be so difficult?

"I know," I say, exasperated, "and I appreciate it, but Sirius needs you right now more than I do. You _can't_ just leave him for patrol—"

"Lily!" This is the first time I've seen James Potter truly frustrated. "This isn't a matter of choosing patrol over friendship. It's much, much more complicated that just patrol. I'm not just doing this for patrol, you know. There's much more at stake, and I can't afford to risk it."

But if he cares about his friends as much as he seems to, I can't let him give them up when they need him most. Especially not in a situation where there's something that could be done about it. I mean, honestly, does he not trust that I can take care of myself without his help? What's the probability I'd get attacked under Dumbledore's nose, anyway?

I take a few steps ahead of him, and I turn and place my hands on his shoulders. "James," I say again, feeling his muscles clench and relax under my fingers. "I can handle being by myself. I'm not going to get hurt. I'm eighteen. Don't worry so much."

"No," he replies stubbornly. He lifts his hands to my arms and slides them down so that they cover my hands completely. "No," he repeats, but more gently now. "We'll finish patrolling, and then we'll go back to our Dorms together. We can even go back half an hour earlier if you want to." He looks into my eyes, and I am unexpectedly overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness. "You and I are friends, Lily, and right now, your safety is more important than comforting Sirius."

I realize all of a sudden how strange we look, standing in the middle of the hallway, my hands in his, staring uncomfortably into each others' eyes. I mean, it probably looks like we're—_retch_—in love or something. (Which could not be farther from the truth, by the way.) I pull my hands from him abruptly and look away. "Yes, we're friends, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Let's finish this patrol, in that case, and go back early."

James sighs resignedly.

I just don't understand why he's sighing.

* * *

The next morning, I am woken up in an extremely unfashionable manner.

I am in the middle of a glorious dream that involves Petunia being jealous of my tall, handsome, charming, adorable, hazel-eyed boyfriend, who is bending down to kiss me. Then, Tuney abruptly points at me and shrieks, "LILY!"

_Oh my God, Petunia, you can't just interrupt people when they're snogging_, I say, annoyed_._

"Lily!" she screeches again. "Wake up!"

Why is it that every time I'm about to get kissed, someone yells at me to wake up?

And then my covers get yanked off. My eyes open immediately, and I scream. "MARLENE MCKINNON!"

"Er," Marlene says innocently from where she, Dorcas, and Alice are perched at the foot of my bed, "good morning, Lily."

"Who was the idiot with bad judgment who let you guys in? I'm going to kill whoever it was," I pout, checking my alarm clock tiredly. Nine-thirty in the morning is way too early for comfort, especially on the weekends. No normal person wakes up before ten, anyway. I pull my pillow over my head and hold it there firmly. I refuse to be kicked out of bed so easily. "I want to sleep today, because I'm exhausted. Let me sleep, girls. You should get some shut-eye too. Good night."

Marlene answers me triumphantly, "James Potter let us in. Isn't that sweet of him?"

Of course he did. That blasted dolt.

"Come on, Lils, get up," Alice says, chuckling, as she reaches over and gently tugs my pillow off of my face. "It's a Hogsmeade weekend, and Marlene wants to go dress shopping today, remember? For your sister's wedding?"

"Oh, yeah," I groan, lifting my head about an inch and letting it drop back onto my sheets. Damn Hogsmeade. Sleep is far, far more important to me. "I don't think we should go shopping today."

"And that would be a very bad decision," says Dorcas, patting my cheek lightly and catching a bundle of clothing that Alice tosses her. "Marlene would attack you if you refuse to go shopping, and then you wouldn't be able to sleep for two weeks because of all the bruises you'd have. We would all suffer, really; that witch is a harpy." Marlene sends her a playful glare, and Dorcas flashes her most winning and determined smile. "Let's go, Lils. We already picked out robes for you to wear today. Get dressed."

I heave a very audible sigh.

* * *

"Oooooh, Lily, red looks good on you," Marlene squeals. "Twirl! I want to see how the frills look from the back." I obediently, albeit wearily, spin slowly, holding out my arms a bit. "Eh, it doesn't look too good from the back. Next dress! How about orange?"

"Or how about I go as a rainbow?" I mutter sarcastically. Dorcas and Alice giggle, but Marlene positively beams.

"That's such a good idea, Lily! Why didn't I think of that? You must be absorbing some of my sense of fashion," she praises me. "Let me go find a nice rainbow-colored dress. Maybe we'll even find one that shimmers or changes colors!"

That witch has got some issues. What part of "Muggle wedding" didn't she understand?

"Marlene," I say unenthusiastically, "I don't know how to tell you this, but there is no way I'm wearing a shimmery rainbow dress that changes color to my sister's wedding. Your sense of fashion clearly needs some work, dear."

She lifts her chin, giving me her most judgmental glare, and says haughtily, "Talking to your past, present, and future stylist for years to come in that manner just won't do, Lily. But fine, no rainbow dress. Although it would be quite attractive, wouldn't it?"

She picks up a simple black dress that is sprinkled with just a few sparkles near the top. "I like this one. Try this on."

I enter the tiny and suffocating dressing room once again—for the eightieth time!—and slip on the dress. The fabric is delightfully light, and it flows out nicely just below my knees. I walk out of the room and strike a pose dramatically. "How about this, girls?"

"Merlin's beard," breathes Alice.

"You look _gorgeous_," Marlene adds excitedly.

"I _love_ it!" cries Dorcas.

"Really?" I answer, looking down at my dress admiringly but still skeptically. I mean, how awesome can a dress be, anyway? "Great. Then we can finally get out of here. Let's pay for this dress and we can go get a butterbeer before we go back to the castle in time for patrol."

Half an hour later, we are walking down the road, arms linked, sipping butterbeers and swinging shopping bags. I glance around, relishing in the feeling of my hair floating around in the October breeze and breathing the fresh smell of autumn. Hogsmeade is gorgeous in the fall: the leaves swirling around in the wind give it a magic different from and even more special than anything wizards could create, and pleasant little shops by the sides of the streets give it a quaint air.

Suddenly, Marlene screams. All of us, frightened out of our minds, whip around, only to find Marlene laughing, with Sirius Black's arm around her waist.

"Marlene McKinnon," I pant, trying to calm my heart rate down, "don't you dare ever do that again. You scared us all to death."

"That wasn't my fault, though," she whines through her laughter, "Sirius scared me."

"So, McKinnon," Sirius says, his face nearly buried in her hair, his arms still tightly wrapped around her, "what do you say to a date sometime? You could watch me play Quidditch, cheer from the stands, you know. I could even take you for a ride on my broom, if you'd like, hmm?"

"Ew, Black," Marlene giggles, her face flushed. "Go away, you idiot. No, I won't go out with you. I don't even like you."

Alice, Dorcas, and I make eye contact, and we all simultaneously roll our eyes. Marlene is the worst liar out of us all.

"Lily," James Potter's voice says from behind me. "Patrol tonight, yeah?"

"Yes," I reply, spinning around to face him. His square glasses are slightly askew, and the tip of his nose is a bit pink from the cold and wind. His hair is sticking up in the wildest directions, and he runs his hand through it, which only makes it worse. I fight back an impulse to laugh. "Meet you in the common room?"

"Actually," says Remus, "we were going to ask if you lovely ladies would mind if we accompanied you back to the castle." Peter blushes and giggle a little, probably mildly embarrassed at his friends' behavior and flowery words. Or maybe he's just intimidated by girls.

Sirius snorts. "Ah, Moony, mate, a wee bit over the top. I think you overdid it."

"And you, Sirius Black," I say, trying not to smile, "you and James could both do with taking a leaf out of Remus's book. He's always such a perfect gentleman. I quite approve of him." I slip my hand into the crook of Remus's elbow, and he grins at me, amused. "Shall we walk, Mr. Lupin?"

His grin widens, catching on and playing his part. "It would be my pleasure, Ms. Evans."

"Actually, he's not_ always_ such a gentleman," mumbles James to no one in particular, nudging a pebble incessantly with the toe of his shoe. Remus's head immediately swivels around over his shoulder to shoot James a dirty look. All we Prefects have mastered the Look of Death rather a long time ago, you see.

But I don't understand why James's comment was worthy of such a look. What is going on here?

I frown, but ultimately decide to just let the issue alone. "Let's go, girls, hurry up," I call, and we all set off for the castle, chattering and laughing merrily.

* * *

Right after lunch on Sunday, Alice announces suddenly that she forgot to read up on the Wolfsbane Potion and that she needs to go to the library immediately. Marlene and Dorcas exchange weird looks and explain that this is the third time she's done so; they say that last week and the week before, she announced her library trips right after curfew. It's so completely unlike Alice to be breaking rules that I silently store away this information in the back of my mind.

James, carrying his Quidditch equipment, walks with me back to our Dorm from the Great Hall for my Transfiguration study session. His broom is splattered with mud, and he has dirt smeared on his face and mixed in his hair. Strangely, thought, the mud seems to highlight his features and make them look even more dramatic.

Finally, I can't help it. "What happened? Why are you covered in mud?" I ask.

He exhales tiredly. "Believe it or not, Sirius Black's idea of a joke is occasionally quite different from mine. He thought it would be funny to hit a Bludger at me and knock me off my broom while I was helping Dorcas with her plans and strategies for catching the Snitch. We were only about five feet from the ground, but, as you can see, it's raining pretty hard." He waves a hand toward the nearest window, outside which rain is pouring down, almost as if the sky were just dumping a massive pail of water over the castle. "And that explains the mud," he finishes, somewhat lamely.

"Oh," I say. "Well, at least you can take a shower when we get back, before we get to work on Transfiguration."

He smiles. "Thank Merlin for all the blessed showers in the world."

After we get back and James finishes showering, he plops down next to me on the couch. "So," he says, "what shall we work on first, my lady? Your wish is my command."

I laugh. "I've been having issues with the wandwork for some of the spells, especially for larger mammals. I was wondering if we could start with that, since I seem to be most confused with that part of those spells. I just don't know how to precisely move my wand and achieve just the right effect."

"That's not a problem, princess," he says, rolling up the sleeves of his white blouse. "Let's get going, then."

He Summons a mouse that he nicked from Transfiguration today when McGonagall wasn't looking, and he takes it out of its cage and sets it daintily on the table. "Practice Transfiguring this mouse into a tea-cup first, please."

"Er, okay," I mutter nervously, trying desperately to stop my hand from shaking. This is actually far more nerve-wracking and embarrassing than I had imagined it would be. What if the spell goes wrong? Would James Potter laugh at me? That would be so mortifying.

"Don't worry, Lils," he reassures me, again demonstrating his horribly eerie knack of guessing exactly what I'm thinking at any given time. I just don't feel comfortable knowing that someone can read my thoughts, okay? "You can do this, I'm sure of it."

Easy for him to say, Mr. I-Am-Number-One-At-Transfiguration-And-You-Must-Bow-Down-To-Me.

Okay, well, not the "you must bow down to me" part, but you get the point.

I perform the correct spell, which is a huge relief to me, and James cheers and applauds. I beam. He then asks me to do it again and again while he circles me, making comments and correcting the way I hold and maneuver my wand. When I improve, he offers praise and encouragement; and when I finally completely master the spell for the first time in my life, he looks genuinely proud and happy for me. He's actually one of the best teachers I've ever had. Bless him.

He decides that I'm ready to move on to Vanishing Spells.

"Vanishing spells," James explains, "are more complicated, and they take more practice, especially as the animal or object you're trying to Vanish gets larger or more complex, as Professor McGonagall explained in class once."

James Potter pays attention in class? Who in Merlin's name would ever have guessed? I press my lips together in an attempt to stop them from twitching in laughter, but I'm not sure exactly how successful I am. I'm pretty sure that I still felt them tremble a little.

He picks up my wand from the table and twirls it in his long, lithe fingers, passing it over to me. As I take it from him, our hands connect for the briefest of moments, and I shiver involuntarily and immediately drop my gaze to the floor. He does the same, but I, glancing sideways at him, notice that his cheeks are turning a deep shade of pink. I suddenly realize how soft his skin is, and how lovely it would be to reach up and touch his cheek— _ew, Lily, what are you thinking? That is disgusting._ I recoil mentally, my insides squirming at my embarrassingly loathsome thoughts.

I raise my wand again, my wand arm still quivering slightly, and I take a deep breath. _Inhale, exhale. You can do this. Just a Vanishing Spell. _I say the incantation before I can freak out any more than I already am, and the poor little mouse only shudders a little and gives an indignant squeak.

Sorry, mouse.

"That was a good attempt, Lily," James encourages me, "quite good."

I sigh. "No, it wasn't, James. Stop lying to me. You're the worst liar in the world."

He studies me intently for a while. "Yeah, okay," he admits reluctantly, the shadow of his signature smirk flitting across his face. "It wasn't. But I know you can do this, just like I know you can find someone out there who is worse at lying than I am. I have complete faith in you, my lady."

"Thank you, my good sir," I say, my voice positively dripping with sarcasm. I really don't want to practice anymore. I won't be able to do it, either way.

"Come on, Lils," James continues, ignoring my sarcasm. "I'm here to help you." He takes a few steps forward, positioning himself behind me. I notice that he's placed himself far enough from my body to prevent me from going berserk, but I also notice that he's close enough for me to feel his body heat against my back. I close my eyes, figuring that he won't be able to see my face from his position, and I inhale deeply, breathing his scent of soap and something fresh and—

Bloody hell, Lily. Concentrate. No hyperventilating.

His lifts his arm, and, before I even realize it, his hand wraps around mine, enveloping my slightly sweaty wand hand with his calloused, strong one. He moves our hands in a swishing motion. "Just like this," James says softly. He moves my hand and my wand again, and he adds a quick flick at the end. "And then this. Now we're going to do this again, and I want you to say the incantation as your hand moves, okay?"

I suddenly find that I've been holding my breath this whole time, and I let it out slowly, hoping that he won't notice. "Okay," I breathe.

Our hands move again, and I whisper the incantation. The mouse Vanishes right before our eyes.

"You did it," whispers James, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "I knew you could."

My head gets strangely light, and I feel as though I'm in a dream, as if I have no control over my actions. My body turns, my hand still in his, and he doesn't let go. When we're face-to-face, I just stand there, looking up at him. His head inclines downward slightly, almost subconsciously, so that his nose is just centimeters from mine, and I stare hungrily into his eyes, seeing nothing else. I tumble forward into those infinite pools of deepest hazel, swimming amongst the all sparkles of gold and green and blue in never-ending freefall, but somehow, my feet never leave the floor.

And then he speaks. "Lily," he murmurs nearly inaudibly, his voice warm and comforting, yet desperate and pleading, "will you go out with me?"

My world suddenly zooms backward, right back to where it was before, where it's always been. My head clears, but my thoughts seem to condense and become far more confusing, a chaotic jumble of emotions and logic. I slip my hand from his and step away quickly from him. "No," I say, shaking my head violently, trying to clear it, "I'm sorry. This shouldn't have happened. We shouldn't be here right now. This isn't right. No." My voice quavers and falters, and I take another step back, swallowing.

"Lily," he begs, an unmistakable look of pain etched across his face, "please, you know I've liked you since—oh, since God knows when—since I met you that day on the Hogwarts Express, and I know, I can tell, that you finally have feelings—"

"No," I repeat, closing my eyes tightly, trying to shut this all out, "stop. No."

"Lily, can't you please—"

"No, I can't," I tell him, biting down on my lip so hard that it burns afterward, "so please stop trying." I slowly shake my head again, and then I turn and run.

I leave him standing there, in the middle of the Common Room, his mouth slightly open but unable to produce adequate words, unable to call me back, his pain still written across his face, and I run. All the way across the room, up the stairs, through my bedroom doorway, flinging my door shut and locking it. I don't stop running until I collapse on my bed.

And then, before I can stop myself, I start to cry.

* * *

**A/N: **Wait, what? I left you on a cliffhanger? How could I be so cruel?

Well, sorry, guys, but I did. Chapter 12 will be up in 2 weeks, though, if that's any consolation!

Please review and tell me what you thought. How was Chapter 11? We've got a bit of Sirius and Lily interaction in this chapter, and we saw a bit of what Sirius is truly like. Did you like it?

Reviews are the only way for me to know what you're thinking, and I can safely say that I love reading your reviews _almost_ as much as I love James Potter. And that's saying something. So please click that lovely little link at the bottom and type me up a tiny little note, and I'll see you back here with Chapter 12 before you know it!


	13. Chapter 12: What It Takes

**A/N: **Hey, guys, I've missed you people. I have a lot to say, so I'll see you at the bottom, and we'll have a discussion.

* * *

**RR: **

_anonymous_**: **Oh, dear, this review made me laugh so hard my ribs hurt. I'm not quite sure if this was an angsty review cursing Lily and me for this story, or if it was a humorous plea for me to hurry up and get Lily and James together, but seeing as you've read up until last chapter and taken the time to review, I'm going to assume it's the latter. Lily Evans can be a stuck-up, stubborn little girl sometimes, can't she? She even gets on _my _nerves at times. :]

_bookworm527_: Hahahahah, oh my goodness, I could never wake up so early. I literally have to drag myself up every morning. Normality _is_ overrated, though. I'll give you that. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

_Petrichor3_: Hello, dear. Thank you so much; I'm so pleased that you liked it! I'm here, exactly 2 weeks from my last posting. Actually, considering I'm only writing Chapter 14, I was considering updating later until I saw this lovely, beautiful review. I'm so honored and delighted that you want to read a bit more before you leave, so consider this your gift from me. Thanks again, darling! It's people like you who keep me writing.

_anonymous_: This review was so similar to the first that I think my ribs are permanently damaged from laughing so hard from these two reviews. Well, I'm quite sorry that this story is causing you so much pain and angst; I quite understand your frustration with Lily. She _does_ need to be taught a lesson. But I'm glad you still keep reading!

_commandingskipper23 : _Oh, tell me about it! I had so many issues focusing on studying. I do hope your exams went well, though! I'm so happy that you like the story.

_Peace-bookluva _: Hi, darling. I don't even know what to say in response to that, other than thank you so very much! I did get your inbox, and I read it, but I've been so busy with exams and writing and all that I didn't have time to reply. It's a great idea, and I'm going to try to incorporate parts of it into the storyline. Thank you so much for suggesting it to me!

* * *

**Chapter 12: What It Takes**

Damn James bloody Potter. Damn him, damn him, damn him. Why does he always manage to screw everything up?

We were _friends_, and it was so wonderful to have him as a friend. He was so sweet, so nice, so helpful, so perfect, and then he had to go and mess it all up, like the great big prat he is. I sob harder, stuffing the corner of my pillow into my mouth.

He had the nerve to ask me out again and ruin our friendship! Wait— I suddenly sit up in bed and angrily wipe at my tears, frowning. What if our friendship wasn't even real to begin with? What if it was all just a huge act on his part, just his plan to get closer to me? What if I'm only a prize to be won, a target that he has never been able to reach, a goal that he has yet to achieve?

But that's not a "what if", is it? I have always known that that's all I ever was and will be to him. At the beginning, it was only because I was the only girl in Hogwarts who hadn't given in to him that he was so interested in dating—no, conquering—me. Because I said no to him, he had to figure out a new way to win me over, and now this "friendship" was his brilliant new way of doing so.

And it worked, too. _I know you have feelings for me_, he was going to say. At that thought, I feel my face flush, even though there's no one to read what I'm thinking in the darkness and solitude of my room, and I embarrassedly cover my face with my hands. Ugh, how could I possibly let a jerk like James Potter think I have feelings for him? Knowing him, it will probably be spread all over the school by breakfast tomorrow. He'll be gloating over his supposed victory, inflating his stupid head, and everyone will be laughing at me.

Not to mention the fact that I don't even actually like him.

But there's no one to blame for this but myself. It's my own fault for letting down my guard and letting him close to me.

_Lily, how could you be so stupid?_

I collapse back onto my bed, worn out and hiccupping slightly. Pulling my sheets up, I crawl under them, cocooning my body in their warmth and comfort. My pillow is completely drenched, and I flip it over, laying my head on it.

Maybe I'll just pretend to be sick and not go down to breakfast tomorrow.

I hate men.

* * *

"Lily?" calls a voice worriedly from outside my room. "Come out for breakfast."

I haven't slept all night, and my head is pounding and throbbing. I'm in no mood for breakfast. "Go away, Marlene," I call back, determined to avoid everyone, but, for no apparent reason, tears blur my vision once more. "I—I don't want breakfast. I want to be alone."

"Sweetie," Alice's voice drifts in, "can we come in? You don't have to get up."

"Go ahead," I say, "do whatever you want." I hear Dorcas using _Alohomora _to unlock my door, and I hastily dab away the moisture from my eyes. Three heads poke through the door into my room, and Marlene is the first to step in.

"Oh, Lils," she says, her dark blue eyes widening sympathetically as she walks over to me, "darling, you poor thing." She sits down on the edge of my bed and brushes a lock of my hair off my face, just as my mother used to do when I was younger. Suddenly, I realize I desperately want my mother to be here, holding me and crying with me over the stupidity of men—and tears spring to my eyes yet again, making me look even more sensitive and stupid than I already do. "Are you hungry at all? We can go get you food right now."

"No," I answer stubbornly, averting my eyes, but my stomach growls and gives me away. Blast you, stomach.

"Yes, you are," states Dorcas matter-of-factly as she strides across my room toward me. "In fact, you must be extremely hungry. Come on, Liss, let's go to the Great Hall right now and bring some breakfast back for her. Marlene can stay here to talk to her."

"I'm not hungry," I protest feebly, but Dorcas has already dragged Alice out the door.

Marlene sighs and pats my hand. "What's the matter, Lily? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," I reply bitterly through furiously clenched teeth, "except for that stupid, arrogant, insensitive loser with whom I have been forced to share a dorm for the entire year. He's such a _prick_, and I hate him more than I hate anyone else in the world." As I spit out every word, half expecting to feel some sort of instantaneous relief from mentally stabbing Potter again and again with a butcher knife, my heart strangely feels heavier, weighted down in my chest, to the point where it nearly physically hurts to breathe.

"What did he do?" Marlene asks, looking appropriately confused and horrified that someone had the audacity to hurt her best friend. I love her so much. "I can't believe it. Are we even talking about the same person? James Potter? He would never do anything to make you this upset."

I take that back. I only love her sometimes.

And now is not one of those times.

"Marlene McKinnon," I say, livid that my best friend is choosing to side with Potter over me when she hasn't even heard the whole story and especially when I'm completely right, "how could you? I'm your best friend, and you don't believe me? I don't even understand you; all the evidence is undeniably there. He's obviously not the bloody perfect little angel you apparently think he is."

"Okay, okay," she gives in, deciding (wisely) not to argue with me right now, "let's hear it, then."

I recount the entire experience to a quietly listening Marlene—which is quite rare, by the way. "… and then he dared to accuse me—_me!—_of liking _him_," I finish heatedly, the injustice of it all still rankling, still burning in my chest. "I mean, how large does a person's head to be to think that everyone who meets him automatically falls in love with him? Not to mention that I clearly hate him—there are no signs that I like him at all. Obviously he's just too in love with himself to even realize that there _are_ people, many people, out there who hate him."

"Oh, darling," Marlene sighs, leaning over to wrap her arms around me, wearing a mournful expression more suitable for someone's deathbed. (As to why she should be mournful, I don't know, but I'll take all the sympathy I can get). "That's awful. I'm so sorry, and I love you so much, dear. I hate to see you like this, but, listen, Liss and Dorc are going to be back soon with your breakfast, and you have to eat so we can go to class. We're going to have to talk more about this later, okay?"

I sniffle tragically. "Okay."

The door bursts open again, and Alice enters, carrying a plate laden with a stack of blueberry pancakes with butter and drizzled with maple syrup, trailed by Dorcas, who has a nice tall glass of chilled pumpkin juice in her hand. "Your favorite, Lils," Alice beams.

"Yeah," adds Dorcas cheerfully, placing the juice carefully on my nightstand and setting the plate of pancakes that Alice handed over to her down next to it, "you're in luck. We took all the blueberry pancakes that were left, and they're just enough for you."

I open my mouth to thank them, but no sound comes out. Instead, I reach up and pull both of them into a hug. "Aw, Lily," Alice says, "we love you too."

Peering over Dorcas's right shoulder, I spy Marlene quietly looking at me, with a most peculiar expression on her face. It's a mixture between pity and exasperation, and it's far too understanding of my current predicament and mess of emotions to be comfortable. I free one of my hands, and I yank Marlene into our hug.

We wind up all sitting cross-legged on my bed, sharing the pancakes happily and laughing.

I even almost forget about the damn ache in my chest and about James bloody Potter.

Almost.

But who cares? Blueberry pancakes are much, much better than men, at any rate.

* * *

I determinedly avoid Potter all day.

I go out of my way to steer clear of him in the hallways at all cost, even if it means dragging Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas along and taking an extra five minutes to get to class. As a result, we end up walking into History of Magic just before the bell rings, soaking wet, after a particularly nasty encounter with Peeves, who happened to be in possession of a few large water balloons. (Damn whoever had the terrible judgment to let him unattended within a fifty yard radius of those blasted things.) It's a good thing the Marauders aren't in that class. There's nothing I hate more than walking into a classroom full of people, all of them staring unabashedly at you, and Ja—Potter being present would only make it a hundred times worse.

I try my hardest not to go back to our Dorm, just to reduce the likelihood that I might see him. When I _have_ to return to get my books for the second half of the day, I make sure to ask Marlene to walk with me until Aurelia's portrait, and I sneak in and across the Common Room as stealthily as possible, praying that I'm quiet enough to make it to my room and back without him noticing that I'm in the Dorm.

However, as soon as we stride into the Great Hall for dinner, it's clear that I have not been the only one trying to evade someone. I feel Ja—Potter's eyes on me the moment I walk through the double doors, and their intensity is so strong that I sense them scorching me, burning a hole through my heart, blinding me, until those hazel orbs are the only things swimming in my vision, although I'm not even looking at him. I lift my head up a bit, preparing to glance at him and pass it off for a noncommittal glimpse around at everyone in the Hall. But my eyes meet his for the briefest of instants before he blinks and looks away, reengaging himself in an animated conversation with Sirius. Just this tiny, meaningless little action stabs a shard of ice through my stomach, and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying right here in front of everyone. I even start to question whether or not I only imagined him looking at me and whether my sanity is still intact.

I mean, it's not like I care when he is and isn't staring at me. He's perfectly at liberty to not look at me. It might even be better for me if that were the case. Staring is creepy, anyway.

_Still, Lily, you know it's the first time he's looked away when you've met his eyes since… well, since ever. It's also the first time he hasn't smiled that crooked smile of his when you look at him._

Well, I don't miss his smile. Who cares if I never see it again?

I impatiently push a strand of my hair behind my ear as we reach the Gryffindor table. Sitting down, I realize how ravenous I am, and I pull my plate toward me, taking a roll and buttering it silently, still inwardly fuming over Potter.

"You okay?" asks Marlene from my left, anxiously searching my face while piling a scoop of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Yeah," I reply, flashing her a quick smile.

Despite my hunger and the allure of Hogwarts's house-elf-cooked dinners, I only manage to eat a few bites before I lose interest in the food. Pushing my plate away from me, I immediately feel Ja—_his_ gaze again, but this time, I can feel his worry radiating across six seats toward me. But who the hell needs his concern? I shake my head to let my hair fall like a curtain between us, mentally shoving him angrily away from me. I sense his eyes moving reluctantly away, and I feel a sickening swoop of victory in the pit of my stomach.

Someone taps my shoulder gently, and I swivel around in my seat to find Sirius Black towering over me. "Oh," I say before I think it over, "it's you." Then, I feel guilty for being so awful when he hasn't done anything to me, so I hasten to add, "Hey, Sirius. Sorry about that, I didn't mean to—"

His expression is so knowing that I cower a little, because I can't figure out what he knows that I don't. "No worries, Lily," he says, "but listen, James wants me to tell you—"

"Then why the _hell_ can't he come over here and ask me himself?" The words fall from my mouth before I can stop them, and I regret them right away. They, apart from sounding like the whines of a toddler, make me seem like I care so much about this whole thing when I don't. Sirius's eyes widen in shock, and he opens his mouth to reply, but I cut across him. "No, I didn't mean that either, Sirius. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit of a mess today."

The funny thing is that he looks like he completely understands, which scares me a little, because I can't imagine how he would understand this entire situation and how I feel about it when I can't even sort it out for myself.

"It's okay, Lily," he says, and, as much as he may try to hide it, I hear a note of pity in his voice, although I don't understand what there is about me today to pity. (Okay, now that just sounded conceited…) "James just wanted to tell you that, er, you two don't have to patrol tonight, because he, er, has some business to attend to—er, important business that Dumbledore knows about—and Dumbledore said that he would have a few teachers take over patrol for you just for today."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this business is?" I ask, mildly annoyed. A stupid and irrational thought that James must not care about me that much if he's keeping so many secrets from me swims to the front of my mind, but I quickly remind myself that I don't give a damn whether he cares or not.

"He would tell you," Sirius answers sadly, "really, he would. But he can't."

"Well, thanks anyway, Sirius," I say, turning back around, and Sirius walks back to his seat between Ja—_Potter_ and Remus, who looks even paler than usual and almost sickly. I glance at the girls to see if they noticed anything, but all three of them are staring far too intently into their plates as they cut their roast beef. "You guys can cut it out now. I know you heard that; you all fail at lying."

Dorcas is the first to drop her façade. "Okay, I give up," she sighs, setting down her knife and fork, "we need to discuss this. Lily still has to tell the whole story/"

Alice looks at me. "Sleepover tonight, Lils? You don't have patrol."

"Yeah," I offer a half-smile, excited at the prospect of a potential distraction from my own thoughts. "That'd be great. My dorm?"

"Deal," Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice chime together.

* * *

The next Saturday, in spite of all my attempts to reduce the amount of contact James and I have, we unfortunately happen to exit our Dorms at the same time, and we end up on opposite sides of the Common Room. We stare at each other awkwardly for half a second, in which I notice a new cut on his cheek, near his dimple, and I'm nearly overcome by a random desire to run over to him and wrap my arms around him. But then he averts his eyes and keeps walking to the door. When he leaves through the portrait hole, I'm still standing there, anger and hurt and sadness and regret and things I can't name boiling inside.

By the time I reach our usual spot in the grass next to the oak tree and plop down next to Marlene to finish some last-minute homework before the big Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch game, I'm completely exhausted for no particular reason. I greet Alice and Dorcas and adjust my scarf around my neck, trying to keep out the chilly October wind.

"Girls," I say, suddenly realizing that I need to tell them about something as I open my book bag to take out my Potions book, "I'm worried about my mental health right now, seriously. I just don't understand why I'm so strung up over this, especially since I don't even really care about him. I mean, we're barely even friends, and I've always known that he only wants me because I've never given in. So why is this one incident affecting me so much?"

The girls are silent for a while, and I start to question if they actually even heard me. Then Marlene abruptly turns to me. "Lily," she says, and I can tell immediately by the tone of her voice that I won't like what's going to come, "have you thought that maybe it's because you _are_ starting to see him in a different light, if you know what I mean?"

Of course I know what she means.

And I don't like it. Not at all. Not one bit.

But could it be true?

"She's right, you know, Lils," Alice adds gently. "After we heard your story on Monday, it's the first thing that crossed my mind. I love you, you know that, and you're practically a genius, but I think sometimes your heart tells you things that your mind refuses to accept, as cheesy as it sounds."

"I believe in tough love," objects Dorcas. Gotta love that girl. "And I think that we should all just get to the point. Lily, I think—sorry, I know—that you're afraid of being in a relationship with Potter, because you're scared that he wouldn't care about you as soon as you gave in. You're terrified of being hurt because you know you could—would—easily love him, and you're hiding behind a wall of anger and pretend-hatred and teenage angst. Well, you know what I think? I think you're a bloody coward, Lily Evans."

I stare blankly at her, my mouth hanging slightly open. A leaf drifts down lazily from our tree, swirling like a dancer through the air, and lands on my Potions book, but I don't even bother to brush it off. Marlene and Alice exchange nervous looks, and Alice gulps rather audibly. I'm not sure what they're more worried about: what they think will be my inevitable Lily-rage volcano eruption or Dorcas's obvious lack of sensible control of her tongue.

Dorcas continues before I can work myself into a temper. "The pathetic truth is that you're running away from him, and you're making yourself miserable because you're frightened of misery. Now, we're not in any position to tell you what to do, because it's your decision and you won't believe anything we say anyway, but we all agree that, based on how James acts when he's around you, he wouldn't do that to you. Therefore, I think it's high time you face what you've been avoiding. Lily."

I lean over across Alice and Marlene abruptly, my arms outstretched. I see a look of amusing panic flash momentarily across Dorcas's face, as if she were suddenly considering the possibility that my finger might close on her throat (a completely unreasonable fear, may I just add—I'm not _that_ violent, no worries…), but it vanishes in an instant as I fling my arms around her.

Alice pats me on my shoulder, getting up. "Dorcas tells it like it is."

"And she's completely accurate, as always," Marlene declares. "And young lady, where do you think you're going?"

Alice turns a lovely china-doll shade of light pink. "Er, bathroom—emergency."

We stop giggling for one moment to suspiciously glare at her rapidly retreating back until we can't see her anymore, and then we glance at each other and burst out laughing again.

"Aw, you guys are so mushy I want to puke," Dorcas says, trying not to laugh. "Well, now that we've gotten that off our chests, I've got to go get ready for the Quidditch game before Lily decides that she actually wants me dead."

I'm so glad my friends have such high opinions of me.

* * *

I'm still thinking about what Dorcas said as we find seats above the Quidditch pitch. Could she be right? Could I possibly have feelings for Potter, the prat?

Don't ask me. _I _don't know.

By the time Alice, breathless, joins us, Ja—_Potter _is already leading his team out onto the Quidditch pitch, and the crowds erupt into deafening screams, holding maroon and gold banners up proudly. We immediately spot Dorcas, with her Nimbus Nineteen-Ninety-Five in her gloved hand, beaming up at us. Waving down at the team, we start cheering also, but I make sure to scream Dorcas's name a few times, just to reinforce the point that I am supporting Dorcas and only Dorcas, as opposed to applauding—you know—_him._

The Ravenclaw team enters, too, and the Ravenclaws on the other side of the stadium shriek and jump up and down. The Slytherins have banners supporting Ravenclaw, also; they'll support any and all opponents of Gryffindor.

Madam Hooch makes the captains shake hands with each other, and I see Potter give the other captain a good-natured grin, but his smile is not returned. I never really understood why boys got so worked up over Quidditch.

They mount their broomsticks and kick up off the ground. Marlene, Alice, and I stand up, screaming and clapping for Dorcas, who plays Chaser, as does _Potter_.

"And they're off," a snide voice, magically enhanced, emanates from the commentator's stand. I let out a groan. Who in their right mind would let Herbert Smith commentate a Quidditch match? "It's the start of the first match of the year—Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor. Today, we'll see if the Gryffindors are actually worthy of the Quidditch Cup they've held ever since James Potter, their"—he makes it perfectly clear from his sarcastic tone what he thinks of Potter—"oh-so-attractive-and-dreamy Captain, has set foot in this school."

I have this impulsive urge to sock Smith in the jaw, (possibly knocking out a couple of his teeth), that has nothing to with defending James Potter and everything to do with Gryffindor arrogance.

Apparently, I'm not the only one, either. All around me, every Gryffindor's face is a livid bright red. It would be almost amusing if I weren't so furious myself—we all look like overripe strawberries about to explode. Even McGonagall, who is usually unnaturally calm and collected, seems unable to control her anger, her lips so thin they almost seem nonexistent, and I remember that Potter has always been her favorite. "SMITH!" she bellows, and she doesn't need magic to make her voice heard this time. "Watch your mouth, or we could easily get another for the job and put you in detention."

"_So sorry_, Professor," he says pointedly to let us all know that he's not sorry at all. I have to restrain myself from taking out my wand and cursing him into oblivion—no one insults our Head of House and gets away with it. "Dorcas Meadowes, Gryffindor Chaser, is in possession of the Quaffle right now—weird girl, that one,"—Mary MacDonald has to pull me back into my seat to prevent me form running down there at once—"and passes it to fellow Chaser, Ethan Peakes, who then throws to James Potter—but, oh!—well, isn't that just sad? Gryffindors, get your head in the game. Ravenclaw captain, Anthony Boot, now in possession of the Quaffle—but Sirius Black, Gryffindor Beater, hits a Bludger toward him, and he drops the Quaffle, and the Quaffle is now in the hands of the Gryffindors."

We scream and cheer, and Black flashes one of his devilish grins from fifty feet above our heads.

"And Potter shoots and the Quaffle goes in—ten for Gryffindor, pure luck if you ask me."

"Well, actually, no one asked you, Smith," Marlene screams at him, and we all laugh. The Slytherins boo louder than ever, and we shriek at the top of our lungs in response.

The game goes on like this for a long, long time. Gryffindors are winning a hundred and forty to fifty, but the Snitch is nowhere in sight. Or maybe it _is_ in sight, but no one's been able to find the incredibly fast and tiny golden ball. Both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seeker have been scouring the pitch in vain to search for any blur of gold. The tip of my nose is tingling from the cold, but I'm determined to see this match out for Dorcas, so I bury my nose deeper into the warmth of my scarf.

When I look back up, Peakes has the Quaffle. A Beater viciously aims a Bludger at him, but he dives sideways, narrowly escaping it. He passes it quickly to Dorcas, who leans forward on her broom, swerving and weaving a path through the Ravenclaw team trying to intercept her. Then she sees Ja—Potter, and some sort of understanding seems to pass between them. Dorcas immediately pulls her broom around and zooms in the opposite direction.

"Potter and his co-Chaser, Meadowes, seem to have some secret plot ready," Smith says in that disgustingly obnoxious voice of his. "That's strange—I didn't know they were so close, really. Didn't he have always a thing for a Meadowes's redheaded friend, Lily Evans? Change of heart, hmm, Potter? Finally tired of being rejected all the time?"

McGonagall screeches, "The school hired you to comment on the match, and _NOT_ on the players' private lives, Smith!"

The Slytherins jeer, and my face flushes as I slowly absorb what he just said. Alice and Marlene look at me sympathetically, and Alice reaches out to touch my arm.

I notice Potter turning furiously around in midair, glaring at Smith, seeming for a second as though he were going to fly directly at him and knock him off his stand. All of a sudden, one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, seeing an opportunity in Potter's temporary distraction, lifts his bat, and—_crack_!—sends a Bludger spinning toward his back. I gasp and get to my feet faster than I ever thought I could possibly move. Sirius sees the Bludger, and he flies toward his best friend immediately to try to stop it from knocking him off his broom, but he's too late. The Bludger hits James, caught unaware, square in the back, and he slips forward just enough that his broom tips over before he can grab onto it.

Then so many things happen at once, and everything goes wrong. The Gryffindor Seeker, apparently oblivious to his captain's situation, finds the Snitch and dives for it. James falls from his broom, a smudge of maroon and gold. My world freezes, but somehow I'm running down from my seat to the pitch, and I can't make out anything I see— I don't know whether it's because of the tears filling my eyes or because of how fast I'm moving, but it doesn't matter. I can't even make sense of my own thoughts—all I know is this completely insane idea that I have to be there to catch him before he falls. I hear McGonagall screaming a spell that I can't discern, but I don't care about what it is, I just keep running toward him.

And then he's only ten feet above the ground, and I'm not nearly close enough. I can feel the collision coming, almost as if I were in his position, and I hear this horrible scream coming from somewhere close to me, but I can't tell whose it is. Maybe it was mine, but it can't have been— I didn't even know it was possible to make a sound like that—and then he collapses in a heap about three feet above the ground, as if he hit some invisible object. He slowly sinks to the ground, but I can see that he's unconscious and unnaturally pale.

I push my way through the crowds of students and teachers streaming onto the pitch. Finally reaching him, I kneel down next to him. I notice a bit of blood oozing from a cut on his cheekbone, probably from his goggles, and I push them back with shaking hands and wipe the blood off with my sleeve.

Some teacher—perhaps Professor Murray, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—crouches down on his other side, grabbing his wrist to check his pulse. "He's alive," he croaks, "but unconscious." He looks up at Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, whose face is whiter than Nearly Headless Nick. "It's not your fault, Minerva. You probably saved his life. Even a Cushioning Charm as powerful as yours couldn't have possibly saved him from all injury, for a fall as high as his was. He most likely has a few cracked ribs, though, so I'm going to need your help, Filius, to get him up to Madam Pomfrey right now."

He and Professor Flitwick Levitate James, and Professor McGonagall, putting an arm around me, tells me that she's going to take me up to my room. "He's going to be all right, but he needs some rest right now. I think it'd be best if you went to see him tomorrow morning, Miss Evans," she says, "and as for that Beater, don't worry, I'll get it all sorted out. Would you like Miss McKinnon, Miss Prewett, and Miss Meadowes sent up to your room also?"

I numbly thank her and allow her to direct me to my Dorm. Aurelia takes one look at us and swings forward wordlessly to let us in. Professor McGonagall sits me in an armchair and produces a cup of hot chocolate. "The girls shall be sent up soon, Miss Evans. Just stay here and don't worry. He will be fine." She offers me a smile that seems more like a grimace to me. I thank her again, and she turns and leaves.

* * *

The next morning, after a night of restlessness, I wake up to find Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas in my room, and I groggily wonder what they're doing here.

And then I suddenly remember everything that happened yesterday, and I spring out of bed, pulling my blouse on haphazardly.

Marlene cracks one eye open. "What are you doing, getting up so early, Lily? Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," I tell her impatiently. "James—I've got to go see him."

The girls exchange worried looks. "Lily, go ahead," says Alice, propping herself up on one arm. "But I think now would be a good time to apologize to him and even tell him how you feel." She sees my expression, and she adds hurriedly, "There's no point in pretending anymore, Lily. After what happened yesterday, I think we all know."

"I—Okay," I give in.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," says Marlene, beaming.

"Well, hurry up, Lils! You've got to get going," Dorcas urges me, shoving my robes into my hands. "Come on, put these on. Good luck!"

Yeah, thanks, I think to myself as I set out down the corridors to the Hospital Wing, I'm going to need it.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that was quite a surprise, wasn't it?

Anyway, there were a couple things I wanted to discuss with you. As many of you know, Pottermore will be revealed in October (I'm excited), and from the spoilers and rumors I've heard (I don't know if they're true or not, but I can only assume that they are), parts of James and Lily's story will be revealed as well. I am a huge stickler for canon; I really don't like writing AU, because I feel like JK Rowling's story is the only right version of events. So this causes a few issues. First off, this means that I will have to do one of three things:

1. Edit this story until it matches with JK Rowling's storyline, which means possible additions of new characters and a possible turn of the plot so far, which also means that there is a large possibility that you guys will have to _reread_ this entire story and that I won't be posting new chapters for a while. Since Pottermore is coming in October, it means that there will be serious editing until October, which is quite a long time. The other problem with this is that I will be in my junior year of high school, and I think I need to focus on my academics first. However, I _really, really _want to continue writing because I love it so much, but this means that updates will be incredibly infrequent, as in probably once or less per month.

2. Start a new story (this means reposting on ), using this as a starting point. Of course, I'll have to wait until we've read the Pottermore Lily/ James story to start that story. The problem with this is, as mentioned above, that I will be in my junior year of high school, and I will be taking a lot of courses and tests, and I think I need to focus on my academics first. However, I _really, really _want to continue writing because I love it so much, but this means that updates will be incredibly infrequent, as in probably once or less per month, and that there won't be any chapters at all until at least October of this year, 2011. I'm leaning toward this option right now, because I think rereading the story, as in Option 1, would be too confusing.

3. Discontinue this story completely.

I would really like your input on this, guys, because your opinions matter to me the most. I'm really conflicted right now, and I don't know what to do.

So if you could let me know two things in a short little review (what you thought of Chapter 12, and which of the 3 options above you'd like me to do), it'd be so amazing, and I'd thank you forever.

Thanks so much!


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